#genuinely set me free this dynamic might be the death of me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fatalism-and-villainy · 1 year ago

Text

ooh, this is very interesting, thanks!

First of all - the "between iron and silver" line is indeed from the books, specifically from the novel Hannibal - it's something Hannibal says to Clarice in a letter.

Overall I completely agree that Chiyoh strongly values and seeks to maintain stability, and that that's why she's more distrustful of Will than Hannibal. My impression of her is that she's very controlled, and very afraid of losing control. Your line about her motivation remaining the same over decades also makes me feel somewhat validated in my fic planning, haha, because I've been formulating a scene in which Will pinpoints the main force that motivates her being purpose, and that she'll latch on very strongly to one and not let go.

The fact that it's Mischa, or Mischa's memory, that she's so devoted to, is something I think about a lot as well. Like, the fact that she's so invested in justice for a dead girl who she never met reflects her most compassionate and moral impulses, imo. And yet, whatever reservations she might have about Hannibal through 3A, it's him confirming that he didn't kill Mischa that seems to assuage those reservations - she doesn't seem concerned about what else he might have done. Which is perhaps indicative of just how narrow her locus of moral concern can be.

(This reminds me that I have this half-formed post-canon concept in my mind of Will and Hannibal acquiring some sort of Abigail-expy, whose expy-ness is very meta-level central given how much her resemblance to and considerable divergence from Abigail informs how they relate to her and the consternation it causes. And I've been rotating in my mind the idea of Chiyoh also latching onto this girl, as a reminder of the other girl whose memory she guarded after death, and this causing problems on top of the problems that Hannibal and Will projecting onto this girl cause.)

Regarding Will - Chiyoh definitely has plenty of legitimate reasons to be wary and resentful of Will. He is a force of chaos, and one that has been considerably destructive to her. And while I do believe that his intervention was, ultimately, a kindness to both Chiyoh and the prisoner (I don't think there is any way that situation could have been resolved without outside intervention), it is a cruel and unasked for mercy that she is understandably not inclined to feel gratitude for.

That said, I do disagree that Will didn't want to help - I think he is telling the truth when he says "it was you I wanted to set free". He had other motivations for setting her up, but I do think pity was one of them. And he's not totally callous about it, either - handing the wine bottle and repeating her "all sorrows can be borne if you put them in a story" line feels to me like it's meant as comfort.

I think the cool confidence he exudes during that series of events is very much a coping mechanism, similar to how he operates in season 2. Especially since he's evidently Going Through It during 3A, and since there are indications that due to his hyperempathy, his impulse during highly emotional situations is to withdraw emotionally. Of course it all looks very different from Chiyoh's perspective, but I think that, despite the genuinely astute observations she makes about him, she doesn't have the full picture on him. For all that people jokingly claim that he dumps his feelings about Hannibal on her, I'd say he is actually mostly avoiding being vulnerable around her, just as she is avoiding being vulnerable around him.

She did withstand his influence over the course of 3A (and he was conveniently incapacitated by the end), but I think there are enough parallels drawn between Will's relationship with Hannibal and Will's dynamic with her (and more explicitly so in the script, where she responds to "Hannibal and I afforded each other an experience we may not otherwise have had" with "you've afforded me an experience I would not otherwise have had") that her wariness and resentment of him simply has more flavour if there is a genuine danger of him undermining her sense of herself.

I will say also - given, again, the line about her and the prisoner being each others' prisoner, as well as her dialogue about how she was "standing still, right where [Hannibal] left me, like taxidermy" - I never got the sense that she entirely comfortably inhabited that stalemate. The firmness of conviction held her there, but it is something that held her back from flourishing, to a degree that even she seems to be aware of.

you got me i think chiyoh's interesting now

yessss

[GJH voice] see? see??

I think a lot about Chiyoh’s arc, and how it aligns with the broader topics season 3 is touching on wrt justice, prisons, and moral responsibility.

Because what’s so striking to me is how unapologetically ruthless she is in her handling of the prisoner, in a way that even Will calls her on:

Chiyoh: He wants you to look at him, speak to him. But you’re not going to. Will: You’ve cast aside the social graces normally afforded to human beings. Chiyoh: He’s cast them aside. All he’s allowed is the sound of water. It’s what the unborn hear. It’s their last memory of peace. Will: You’re keeping him like an animal. Chiyoh: I wouldn’t do this to an animal.

The kind of solitary confinement she subjects him to is, effectively, torture. And yet she feels so strongly about murder! Her self-defense murder of the prisoner and its immediate aftermath marks the only time when she’s truly emotionally rattled, and everything about the situation suggests that not killing is a very stringent moral standard she’s held herself to. And no matter how wearying the prolonged imprisonment is to her, it’s not one that she has a moral objection to - she believes it’s justified by the severity of the prisoner’s crimes. (It’s questionable whether she considers her treatment of the prisoner to be violence, but if she did, she’d certainly term it “necessary violence”.)

(There is something similar to consider about the random mooks she shoots to ensure Hannibal and Will’s escape in Digestivo - is this “necessary” violence to her? Apparently, but if so, she considers protecting the man she considers to be family something for which it is worth taking lives. And the fact that those murders are far-off sniper shots suggests that perhaps she is averse to violence when it’s up-close, personal, and bloody, but is still willing to enact it when she can distance herself somewhat from its effects.)

All of that is to say - I am convinced that Chiyoh’s insistence that she only commits violence when it’s necessary, and her repeated disavowal that she is anything like Will, despite having actively undertaken vigilante justice, is pretty hypocritical on her part! I don’t say that to demonize her - the jumble of contradictory ethical principles is one of the aspects of her that I find fascinating to crack open despite her limited screen time, and Will himself by season 3 (and almost certainly post-canon) is also pretty capable of hypocrisy. And of course she’s not entirely like Will. She doesn’t seem to take much righteous satisfaction or sadistic pleasure in her handling of the prisoner - her line that “we have been each others’ prisoner” suggests that the situation wears on her just as much as him. But it is pretty clear to me that there are truths about herself, and her capacity for violence, that she is pointedly refusing to acknowledge, and that she’s clinging to some pretty narrowly defined moral principles so as to preserve her self-concept.

And I think the question that that arc involving Chiyoh invites us to ask - whether the bare life conditions she subjected her prisoner to really were all that morally superior to murder - constitutes one potential thread between 3A and 3B. Because what it brings to mind for me is Hannibal’s line to Alana in WOTL: “Any rational society would either kill me, or give me my books.”

And like many of Hannibal’s statements… it makes a twisted kind of sense.

To be clear, I absolutely do not think NBC Hannibal is trying to articulate a thematic statement against carceral justice - it’s too apolitical a show to bear that kind of weight. (And it’s certainly not interested in rehabilitation, either). But it is a show that is very interested in how our moral beliefs as well as our darker urges and fascinations define our selfhood, and the kind of moral doublethink we all engage in. And that kind of thematic backdrop does appropriately pair with the show’s general slant towards murder as not even necessarily more ethical than imprisonment, but more honest. As something that constitutes truly owning our moral judgments, feeling for ourselves the full weight and impact of delivering them.

Alana being the recipient of that line from Hannibal - and her overall role as his jailor - also has a certain kind of irony, given that she herself has to learn this lesson in 3A. She and Margot, as per their dialogue in Dolce, intend to have Mason arrested. But when that plan goes awry and they can’t rely on FBI intervention, Alana ends up having to pay the price of getting involved with Mason by getting her hands dirty. Notably, in the cases of both Alana and Chiyoh, Will has a hand in pushing them both towards murder (and in the case of Alana, Hannibal also plays a role in that - an interesting example of the aligned-but-divergent ways Will and Hannibal might exert influence on others post-canon). The situations are somewhat different in that Chiyoh has shouldered more personal responsibility in taking on the role as jailor, rather than ceding that authority to institutional higher powers. But her situation does still overlap significantly with Alana helping Margot murder Mason, in that the result Will engineers from her feels geared to force her to face what she’s taken on, to get up close and personal and really see.

(And of course, both murders bring some sort of freedom or moral catharsis, along with an intense self-recognition that can’t be found through the complacency of more socially acceptable forms of justice.)

Furthermore, in 3B, Will himself is engaged in a similar kind of thought process. In his conversation with Walter, he’s pretty firm on not killing Dolarhyde, and sending him to a mental hospital instead. And given Will’s arc at this point in the show, it’s pretty intuitive that this intention is a product of Will not wanting to be the kind of person who kills - an intention that is arguably also present for both Alana and Chiyoh. All three do have genuine ethical objections to murder as well, of course - I can pretty easily formulate all of them feeling that fewer people dying is an optimal outcome. But their personal conceptions of themselves are certainly also a factor in their disavowal of murder.

But the culmination of the Red Dragon arc, in which Will and Hannibal jointly kill Dolarhyde, is clearly much more preferable end for Dolarhyde. The way it’s cinematically rendered, with the blood fanning out in the shape of wings, suggests that murder constituted his ultimate transformation, in which his true sense of himself was fully realized. Although defeated, undergoing change to fuel our main characters’ radiance is a much more poetically resonant and satisfying ending, and it’s hard to imagine any other way he’d rather lose. Aesthetics > ethics.

Of course, in real life, I don’t believe that killing people - even genuinely bad people who’ve caused serious harm - is a remotely acceptable ethical solution. But within the world of Hannibal, a world in which the killers conceive of themselves in terms of artistic vision, for whom psychiatric language and its corrective purpose is nowhere near sufficient - by the internal moral logic of that universe, murder is often more merciful, and displays much more genuine understanding and empathy.

All of this is to say, I think Chiyoh’s arc can be figured within these broader themes in season 3. And the lesson she learned from Hannibal - and by extension, Will - from her intervention with justice is much the same as the lesson that Bedelia learned from Hannibal: that observing and participating are the same. Taking on the responsibility of enacting justice, in the world of Hannibal, requires becoming the executioner.

#menciemeer #replies #my meta #chiyoh #hannibal #hannibal season 3 #will graham #hannibal talk #queue

28 notes · View notes

elysiadjarin · 3 years ago

Text

Day 6: Hand Kink

Day 6 of Kinktober! Already almost a week in, huh… I figured I’d dip into the rich Japanese side of mythology this time. I hope this is an acceptable tribute… Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content ONLY. Trigger warnings for violence mentioned including physical assault, some family abuse dynamics, implied sexual assault (does not actually happen), and mild descriptions of death. Also sexual content including soft dom themes, PinV unprotected sex, entirely consensual.

Tags: Beast Youkai x reader, fox spirit x reader, exophilia, terato

Small Sun Showers

“It’s such a small thing, really.”

You slid the bag you’d brought into the hollow of the old tree. Avoiding the ropes strung around, you carefully sat on the rock next to the tree.

“I brought you some sweet buns, this time, with poppy seeds,” you said, ignoring the comment that had come from the dark hollow. “Since you said you missed some of the herbs.”

The sound of crinkling came from the hole, followed by the sounds of munching. “Attentive to me, as always, sweet one,” the disembodied voice cooed, though a moment later burning orange eyes stared at you from the darkness.

You studiously avoided the gaze, looking down at the grass under your feet. A sliver of shadow from the abandoned warehouse nearby fell over you, giving you some shade from the warm sun. As always, you didn’t respond to the epithets. You never did.

“How is the temple doing?” The voice asked.

“It’s fine,” you answered, almost automatically. “The festival is coming up soon, so everyone is excited.”

“And yet you do not, hmm?” The eyes tilted, as though the head had cocked at her curiously.

Your eyes slid away, more towards the forest beyond the tree. Unconsciously, your fingers tugged at the long sleeves you wore, despite the warm weather.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admitted. “As a Shrine Maiden, I’m supposed to be doing the Miko Kagura. I’ve been practicing, but…”

“You wear long sleeves again.” A hint of suspicion crept into the voice.

Despite yourself, you flinched. “I— I’m just-“

A low growl issued from the tree. “A spirit has been harassing you again, hasn’t it. Why haven’t you called an exorcist? Or told your Father, the Priest?”

You turned your head away. “It’s been contracted by someone else,” you admitted, voice thin. “I… can’t tell Papa.”

A pause. “Because it was bought at a high price.” A sneer laced the voice. “Then how do you plan to get rid of it? You can’t hold it off forever yourself. And it’s already injured you, hasn’t it.”

You shook your head. “I’ll find out a way. I can’t bother anyone else with it.” Your eyes slid closed, the bruises mottled up your arm throbbing.

“Or you could create a contract with something far more powerful,” came the slick purr. “If you’d only break the talisman, I would make a contract with you, sweet one.” The sealed beast offered, for not the first time.

“You are a beast youkai,” you answered, voice steady. “It is against your nature to bind yourself to anyone, much less become the guardian spirit of a small temple.” You reminded both him and yourself.

“Unless we have reason. Even the mightiest of beasts might be swayed by beauty such as yours.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips as you turned your face away. You? As if. The beast youkai only even spoke to you because you gave it food and paid attention to it out of your own loneliness, not because it somehow cared about you. You couldn’t bring yourself to really believe that.

With a soft sigh, you plucked at your sleeves. “What do you want me to bring you next time?”

But the voice stayed quiet for a moment. When it spoke again, something in its voice had changed. “Do you truly not believe me? I do not lie when I say that I would bind myself to you. I would never let you be injured. I would protect you, like your family cannot. I would hold you close,” the voice said, a dreamy tone in its voice, “and I would shower you with everything you deserve.”

You fought the tears that welled in your eyes as you abruptly stood, grabbing your bag. “If you don’t have any requests, I’ll just bring anything,” you interrupted, struggling to make sure your voice didn’t waver.

A sigh, so soft that you wondered if it were only the wind. “A meat bun.”

You nodded, then headed back down the hillside towards home. Reaching up, you angrily smeared your tears from your cheeks, breath hitching on your sobs.

You could never allow yourself to believe the words of a youkai, much less a powerful and dangerous one like him. No matter how sweet his words, how genuine they sounded… Everyone always lied to you. He would be no exception.

You tried to ignore the little part of you that wondered if maybe, just maybe, dying at the hands of the youkai would be better than continuing the misery of your life.

“Fouuuund youuuu.” A yawning mouth sprang from the darkness, black eyes fixed with crazed bloodlust on your body.

You dropped to the floor, scrambling across the hardwood to slide towards the doorway. Leaping back up, you ran for your life. Your breaths came fast and shallow as you blindly ran, tripping through the dark halls of the temple. Behind you, you could hear cackling laughter as its talons scrabbled after you.

You reached out your hand, then burst though the main doors, stumbling across the stones out front. Looking up, you froze.

An entire group of men stood in front of you, all staring at you with leering, jeering faces. The one in the front, the one your brain automatically assumed was the leader, stepped forwards.

“Well, well. Would you look at that.” He grinned, his eyes sliding over your shoulder.

Something grabbed your arm, wrenching you back. You stifled a cry, sinking your teeth into your lip as claws brutally dug into the bruises already all up your arm. The spirit held you, its tight grip almost unbearable.

“I guess the boy must really hate his family, huh?” the man sneered, hands in his pockets as he stared at you down his nose. Reaching out with his foot, he kicked at you like some sort of trash. “To think that he’d offer his own younger sister in exchange for his debts.”

Your heart sank. Of course. Your brother who had gotten into debt with the yakuza. Of course he’d offer you: the only girl, the precious little shrine maiden.

Sadly enough, it didn’t even surprise you. But at least now you figured out why the spirit had haunted you in particular so insistently, and how much trouble you were in. Which, you snorted bitterly to yourself, was a lot. Probably at risk of your life, at best.

A wild thought flashed through your head, desperate but somehow… insistent. Your eyes briefly scanned the crowd of men. You were smaller than most of them, and probably in better shape at this point. If you managed to get a brief head start, you weren’t too far away— enough to maybe be able to get there just fast enough. But you’d have to immobilize the spirit first, at least temporarily.

Thickly, you swallowed, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply. You had enough. Just enough for one— Your other hand landed on the spirit’s as your eyes flew open. The spirit let out a piercing shriek, letting go of you as the searing spiritual energy burst through your palm. You didn’t hesitate.

Breaking into a dead sprint, you headed straight for the hill behind the temple. Behind you, you could hear the angry shouts of the men as they started after you. You pushed yourself, ignoring it, taking as many shortcuts as you could, heart pounding in your ears as you gasped for air. Your legs were starting to ache, and you could hear them gaining on you; but the warehouse was in sight.

Skidding around the corner, you ran straight for the tree. Your hand reached for the talisman.

When the yakuza men caught up to you, they found you kneeling at the base of the tree, a shattered seal at your feet.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you whispered into the hollow. “Please… if you help me, just this once… I’ll give you myself in exchange,” you promised weakly.

“It’s too late now, little girl,” the boss sneered, starting to step towards you. “You’re coming with us.”

But before he could say anything more or another move was made, a dark mist began to swirl around the area. Shouts of confusion arose as the mist covered everything, too dark to see through, almost too dark to even move in safely. A low, grating laugh spilled from the darkness, just as you felt yourself being lifted up.

Startled, you gasped softly and clung to the solidity you could feel under your fingers. Lips parted, you stared at the familiar orange eyes that slowly materialized in front of you. A wide, fanged grin split the darkness underneath the eyes; and slowly, a body started to emerge from the swirling dark mist.

“Well hello there, my sweet one,” the familiar voice cooed. Long, pitch black hair tied in a low ponytail framed a pale face. The beast youkai, one that you now recognized as a Fox, held you effortlessly in one arm, pulling you close to his chest. He towered above the ground, dwarfing you in every way possible. His entire hand curled around almost your entire thigh.

You swallowed. “H-hello,” you whispered tremulously, not even sure what to think at this point.

“You released me,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on you. He leaned forward, and his nose brushed against your cheek as a soft purr rumbled through his chest, reverberating down into you.

Your fingers clenched in his robe, surprise flittering through you that he wasn’t… leaving. Or killing you.

“My brave darling,” the youkai fairly gushed, nosing against you. “Now I can finally fulfill my promise to you.”

“Promise?” you repeated dumbly, mind whirling. What-?

He chuckled. “I told you, didn’t I? That I would contract with you, if you set me free. Protect you, cherish you as you should be.”

He’d actually meant it? What?

“I…” You stared up at his orange eyes, fixed on you intensely. Your breath stuck in your throat as the familiar ache of longing overcame you. Reminded you of your stupidity, falling in love with the beast youkai that you thought would never even glance at you if he were free.

“Of course I’ll do anything for you,” he purred, his tongue flicking out to briefly lick away the tear-streak on your cheek. “As if I would deny you when you offer me the one thing I truly desire more than anything else.” He grinned, eyes sparking. “You.”

And then his fingers tilted your chin up, and your eyes squeezed shut as his lips landed on yours. The kiss was warm and soft, surprisingly so. You could feel your spiritual energy gravitating towards him, could feel it wrapping around him, infusing him, as he made a contract binding him to you and your spiritual energy. He reluctantly let go of your lips, the dizzying kiss making your head spin as you gasped for breath.

“My name is Kaz, sweet one,” he murmured, orange eyes half-lidded in simmering contentment.

Unthinkingly, you repeated the name. “Kaz…”

His eyes glowed. “Now then. Why don’t we start with these filth?”

In the next moment, the mist cleared to reveal that everyone now stood in the empty warehouse. Kaz still held you in his arm, keeping you close against his chest as he stared at the yakuza men starting to reorient themselves.

The boss cursed, glaring at you and Kaz. “Hand her over,” he spat, bristling. “She’s ours.”

But Kaz only laughed, his teeth baring as feral glee glittered in his eyes. “Give you my precious shrine maiden?” he cackled. “Didn’t you ever consider the fact that she is in fact a shrine maiden at a temple, with her own powerful spiritual energy? Enough to make a contract with a powerful beast like me?” He licked his lips. “And your blood… smells wonderful.”

Some of the men started to look wary, clearly leery about the sheer size of Kaz, especially in comparison with you.

Kaz tilted his head toward you, just as he flicked his fingers. A soft sort of puffy cloud materialized beside him, and he gently set you on it. “Stay here while I get rid of these nuisances,” he said gently, his fingers brushing across your cheek. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” With one last sickeningly sweet smile, he turned towards the men. A sword materialized in his hand, practically the size of your entire body.

You looked away, bile rising in your throat. The blood drained from your face as you heard the men screaming, the sound of the carnage making you reach up to clap your hands over your ears. Though you were sure the men were far from innocent or deserving of mercy, the brutality of their deaths was undeniable. A high-pitched, inhuman shriek indicated that the spirit they’d contracted had also been shredded by Kaz.

It made you wonder. How powerful was Kaz, exactly-?

After another moment, you felt Kaz lift you up again in his arm. Eyes flying open, you grasped at his shoulders as he pulled you close against himself again. His other blood-spattered hand still held his sword, but his eyes were adoringly fixed on you.

Reaching up, you absently wiped away a tiny drop of blood off of his jaw. “Thank you,” you whispered. Despite yourself… you felt safe.

His eyes visibly lit up, and his grin widened as he gazed up at you. “Ah, my darling praises me!” You could swear his eyes had hearts in them. “Do I get a kiss?” His grin turned teasing.

You swallowed thickly. “I… I promised you myself if you helped me,” you said weakly. “It’s all I can really give you… besides my spiritual energy—“

Kaz leaned forwards, his face so close that you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “Be my bride,” he whispered, his voice a heady murmur.

You breath hitched. “K-Kaz?” Had you… heard him right-?

“You offered me yourself, darling,” he purred. “So, be my bride. I am contracted to you, aren’t I? So I will be an impertinent beast and ask the shrine maiden to be my bride without shame.”

You closed your eyes. “Okay,” you whispered.

He paused, as though he himself didn’t believe you’d agreed.

Because you both knew that as a youkai contracted to someone with spiritual energy, you had the power to entirely command him to do anything… and deny him anything. Yet here you were, agreeing to be his bride.

“Okay, Kaz,” you repeated, not meeting his eyes. You could feel the color splash across your face.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t as though you really had many other options. Kaz could promise you some sort of safety even against your own family, and his power was certainly enough to protect you against other youkai. It had taken one of the highest-complexity talismans to even seal him away in the first place, and you could already feel through the contract how powerful he was.

The idea of being his bride… wasn’t really disagreeable.

“Darling,” Kaz breathed. His lips gently slid against yours, the touch soothing and almost… grounding. “I’ll be a most devoted husband, I promise,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes and decided that you would try to believe.

The talisman had been such a small thing, really.

You smiled as you walked down the street, stretching your hand out to gather the raindrops that pattered down and pooled in your palm. The weather had been beautiful, but despite the warm sunshine and hardly a cloud being in the sky, it had still decided to rain.

Pausing in the middle of the empty sidewalk, you lifted your face and let the raindrops splash against your face in a cooling shower. You loved the rain, the way it seemed to wash away all your heavy worries and soothe the ragged edge in your soul.

A shadow fell over you, and you opened your eyes to see Kaz standing above you, smiling down at you. He leaned down and swept you up into his arm, one hand holding your thigh while the other wrapped around your waist. A startled laugh fell from your lips as you held onto his shoulders.

“Is my darling enjoying the fox wedding?” he cooed.

You flushed, just then realizing the common name for the burst of cloudless rain. You gave him a shy smile, then nodded.

He chuckled. “Should we celebrate, sweet one? I can give you a gift, if you like.” Between one breath and another, he’d shifted you both somewhere else.

You gasped, eyes widening as you saw that you were floating on a soft, wispy cloud, now deep in the forest on the outskirts of town. A place no other people were, where the rain pattered softly against the leaves of the trees and dripped to the undisturbed grasses below. Flowers bloomed beneath your cloudy carpet ride, and you leaned over to brush your fingers through the colorful blooms.

The cloud rose a little, coming to a stop and floating peacefully. Kaz pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapping around your entire waist. He smiled, watching your expressions as you looked around in delight.

“And what do you think of your wedding veil, my darling bride?” Kaz murmured, leaning down to brush his nose against your hair.

You looked down at the long, wispy cloud under you, and smiled. “It’s pretty. Thank you, Kaz.” You tilted your head back to smile at him.

His orange eyes flared, and he caught your lips in a burning kiss that seared through you like foxfire. Letting out a surprised squeak, you grasped his robe, fingers tangling in it for support as he pulled you closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Your head spun as your eyes fluttered closed.

When he finally parted, you gasped a little for air, blinking dazedly. His hand gently slid up your waist and side, sliding to your back, pulling you flush against him. He pressed another kiss to your lips. You realized, with a burst of embarrassment, that the rain had entirely soaked your shirt, plastering it to your body and leaving rather little to the imagination.

“Darling, my darling,” Kaz murmured against your lips, “won’t you let me touch you?” His hands slid down your body, fingers caressing you sensually.

You bit your lip, heat staining your face. It wasn’t fair. He knew your weakness for his hands. His large, strong hands that held you close, admired your body with touch. His calloused, capable hands that protected you, defended you, worked for you.

You nodded shyly, peeking up at him. Your lips parted in a gasp as his hands slid under your shirt, starting to map out your skin. His tongue slid against yours in a soft kiss, almost distracting you from how his hands deftly explored your body.

It almost startled you when your back landed against the cloud, Kaz hovering above you with his hands wrapped around your waist. His robe slipped open, sliding down his shoulders as he observed you with burning eyes.

“So beautiful, darling,” he purred, his hands trailing down to your pants. “Can I touch? Please?”

Shyly, you nodded, one hand over your mouth as you let out a quiet whimper, chest heaving with breath. Kaz’s hands were so broad, so warm… handled you with such a reverent sort of gentility and softness that you couldn’t help but bask in it, melt into it.

A steady purr rumbled through his chest as he kissed his way down your jaw and neck, fingers sliding into your pants and underwear to pull them off. Sliding his hands under you, he pulled your body up against him, lips sliding across yours.

Your hands braced you against his chest as you gasped, feeling his cock land heavily against your stomach. It throbbed against you, but he quickly distracted you as one hand slid into your hair, pulling your head back. He pressed a kiss to your lips, his mouth hot against your skin.

“So tiny and sweet,” Kaz mumbled against your neck, his voice half-drunk. His fingers slid across your thigh wrapped around his waist, and he lowered his hips, pushing you into the plush softness of the cloud. Your mind started to fuzz, entirely focused on the way his hands grasped at you, somehow greedy and gentle all at once, and the way he handled you with that deft confidence yet tender infatuation.

“Kaz,” the moan left your lips before you could quite help it, your entire body humming at every brush of his fingers.

His answering hum was low and amused as he started to gently slide into you, making you gasp and arch. His cock slid into you without resistance. You’d gotten so wet just thanks to his soft touches and gentle attention. He murmured your name against your lips as he slid wholly into you, seating himself inside with a heavy breath.

You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to somehow ground yourself. Everything had started to go fuzzy, especially as his hands wrapped entirely around your hips and pulled you down onto his cock, his grasp iron as he ground up into you.

His pace, once he started thrusting, stayed steady and almost agonizingly slow. But when you whined, he chuckled and slid his fingers between your lips instead. You let his lithe fingers gently play with your tongue, while his other hand kept you anchored to him.

You could feel the coil inside you steadily growing, getting tighter, closer to the edge. Everything felt so hazy and light, like the solidity of his body was the only real thing, the only think that mattered. Like his hands were the only things that kept you grounded, held you down, safe from drifting away.

“K-Kaz.” Your teary eyelids opened to gaze up at his face.

“Does this please you, my darling?” Kaz murmured, sliding his fingers out of your mouth and down to press against your clit.

“I— I love you.” Your fingers curled against his chest.

His orange eyes widened, then flooded with that pure, infatuated adoration. “I love you, my sweet darling,” he purred, kissing you. “And I am so entirely yours.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you with a force that left you lightheaded and dizzy. The pleasure suffused your entire body until you were gasping, tears streaking down your cheeks as you whimpered.

You finally floated down from your high to the feeling of Kaz’s hands sweeping over you. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin. He pulsed inside you, but still kept his pace slow and steady as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck. His hands clenched around your hips, and he let out a groan as he rested his head beside yours. You could tell that he was so close, his hips starting to stutter.

“You feel so lovely, so warm and tight and soft, darling,” Kaz groaned. “Please, can I—“

“It’s okay, Kaz,” you reassured sweetly, voice shy. “You can.”

He jerked one more time, sinking into you with a low groan. His entire body shuddered as he came, pouring into you as he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints. For once, you didn’t mind the bruises.

Pulling back, he caught your lips in a deep kiss, mouth slanting over yours. He poured the love, the gratitude, the adoration between your lips until you felt as though you could drown in it.

“I will always protect you,” he promised against your lips.

And for once, you believed the promise.

It was such a small thing, really.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #my writing #mywriting #x reader #kinktober #fox spirit x reader #Youkai #japanese mythology #Youkai x reader #Exophilia #monster x human #nsft #smut #terato #monsterboyfriend #monsterlover #monsterfucker #x you

253 notes · View notes

sxfik · 4 years ago

Text

let's talk about han seo, hockey and his relationship with vincenzo!

disclaimer: probably more unorganized than usual lol but i had a lot of thoughts on this. feel free to add on!!

hockey has been a connection to han seo that we have seen throughout the drama. hockey is a traditionally masculine sport, and focused on team building and brotherhood between the participants. hockey is also a violent sport, often very rough on the body and rigorous. the show utilizes hockey as a symbol of masculinity, and a representation of brotherhood, especially for han seo.

from very early on, hockey sets the dynamic between the brothers: the ice is a punishment and a reminder of han seo's relationship with his brother who uses hockey as a punishment for his brother's mistakes as well as a way to let off steam. the first notable utilization of hockey was prior to jun woo's reveal as han seok. we watch as han seo explains himself to han seok and han seok repeatedly hitting the puck into his stomach when angry and unsatisfied with the answers. this is the first real relationship we see between the two brothers. han seok uses han seo as a punching bag in order to let off his anger that he feels on a day to day basis and as a reminder to han seo of his place beneath him.

we can use this scene to infer about their relationship in their childhood. Mr. Nam has mentioned that han seo was abused by his brother as a child and has gone to therapy his whole life. as a young adult, he turned to drugs and partying and it is implied that he has wound up in the police station many times. han seok has used han seo as his punching bag and han seo molded his personality and actions in order to avoid provoking his brother. han seok has constantly reminded han seo that he is beneath him, both in blood along with intelligence and stature, and in order to satisfy him, han seo leveled himself down.

it’s important to note that this is certainly not true about han seo. we have seen that han seo picks up on situations much faster than han seok thinks (gummy bear scene), but refuses to let his brother notice as it can result in more abuse. the only reason han seo comes off as a bumbling chairman is because he isn’t as “cunning” as vincenzo or jang han seok.

it's also important to note that while there have been moments of a cordial relationship between the two, it is still an abusive relationship. even after moments where han seok has shown kindness to han seo, it is no excuse for the abuse that han seo has suffered. it is also not a reason to say that han seok is caring brother despite his abuse as he does not care for han seo beyond preserving him as an escape out of jail or death.

it's safe to say that han seo has never had a real brotherly relationship neither has he had a role model in his life and it shows in the early episodes. we see han seo mimic han seok's hockey tactics and throw pucks at his advisors (idk what to call them tbh) and even force the board members to drink spicy food without water (maybe this was a way han seok punished him when he was younger). han seo mimics his brother and attempts to be like him in these episodes. that is also why he sends thugs after cha-young and vincenzo: he is attempting his brother's scare tactics but it is clear to see that han seo is not the one for strategizing and well, being a villain. furthermore, we have noticed han seok's attachment to hockey sticks and how he deals out punishment (i.e. killing the prosecutor with a hockey stick, defending himself against intruders with the hockey stick, smashing in the car window glass with hockey stick) and han seo has bound to pick up this toxic relationship with hockey, and as an extension in the way he views his relationship with his brother.

we see this change as we watch the scene where han seo and vincenzo are on the ice together. both are stood opposing each other but in the same pose and in hockey gear. this establishes them as equals as both are equipped with the same armor and the same attack sticks. both of them have an equal chance at the puck. it heavily contrasts the scene we see where we see han seok, fully in armor and equipped to attack, and han seo in the lone suit with no protection or means to attack him back. we also note that when han seo scores, we see a genuine smile on his face and as vincenzo threatens light heartedly to "come here" and makes a move towards him, he playfully skates away. this is similar to how many brother's play on the playground together as kids: competitive but never cut-throat or attempting to maim each other. we also note han seo asking from approval from vincenzo, like a little kid would from their older sibling, asking if they did good, and vincenzo responds like an older sibling with playfully underplaying their contribution. we also see vincenzo granting han seo good advice to use/train his brain and asks him about his studies, the same way an older brother checks up on a younger one.

we can note that han seo feels comfortable around vincenzo in a way we don't see with his brother. vincenzo makes a move to throw a puck in his direction when he drops honorifics but we don't see han seo flinch in the same way that he does with han seok. even when vincenzo makes moves towards him, or gets closer he doesn't flinch, he just glides back. it shows that han seo trusts Vincenzo in a way he hasn't before. he also shyly thanks him for the advice and expresses a certain love to vincenzo, beyond just the admiration that everyone has for him (aka the vincenzo effect).

of course, we see han seo skate toward vincenzo and losing control but vincenzo catches him. he is caught off guard as he is caught though which might be telling us that han seok would have never made a move to protect his brother like that. even though i've seen many people criticizes the usage of "is this love" during that sequence, i don't believe it's used mockingly like adrenaline is. "is this love" is the song used when vincenzo develops a serious relationship with someone, most notably cha-young. what this song is doing in this scene is establishing a sibling relationship between vincenzo and han seo and noting that there is a specialty to their partnership, just like how cha-young and vincenzo's relationships are special.

most importantly (and what breaks my heart), han seo asks vincenzo repeatedly whether he will kill him. while this fear is warranted as han seo has aided han seok in many ways prior to him seeing the light and teaming up with vincenzo, we also know that han seo was fearful for his life with han seok. han seo walks on a thin line with han seok and never knowing when his life was going to end at his hands. han seok continually teased him and threatened him (we can infer this from the gummy bear and "are you going to kill me like you killed our father" and when han seok held the knife to his neck). not to mention, han seo now carries a watch gifted by han seok: a reminder that han seok has control over his life. han seo is continually fearful of when his brother will murder him and take that watch as his next trophy. except this time, we can note that han seo says something along the lines "i know you won't but i can't help but feeling uneasy." it really enforces how far han seok's abuse has hurt han seo. even with reassurances, he is still fearful that his brother, or someone he views as his brother will take it away from him.

it's important to note that hockey is a sport that emphasizes team building and brotherhood also encourages a little rough housing. han seok and hockey vs. vincenzo and hockey are the two opposite ends of what hockey is supposed to be as a sport. han seok and hockey empahsize the violence, and rough nature of hockey, where han seok is using the puck and the hockey sticks as weapons to attack defenseless people (han seok, those prosecutors, that poor car and also zumba snake choi and mr. han). han seok uses it to crush down han seo instead and leaves behind the team aspect. vincenzo on the other hand focuses more on the team building and brotherhood MORE than the violence, their scenes focused more on vincenzo giving advice and building han seo up rather than crushing him and pushing him down. we see han seo actually scoring and both of them being playful with each other, building a rapport with each other.

in episode 18, we can note that han seo is acting more and more like vincenzo (like how in the earlier episodes han seo acted like his brother). when revealing his hand in han seok's demise, he acts similar to vincenzo, leaning in and explaining how he pulled the rug from underneath his feet. we also see a new kind of boldness, a fire behind his eyes we don't see before this moment when he speaks to han seok. the same sport that was used to torment han seo has provided him the support and advice he has needed to turn his life around. i believe that having a genuine support system for the very first time has provided han seo the platform to change and grow, as well as gain confidence in himself and his abilities. in episode 19 and 20 i want to see han seo and vincenzo grow together and evolve into a relationship where both are comfortable and able to give mutual support and love to each other.

#mine #vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #chayenzo #hong cha young #song joong ki #tvn vincenzo #jeon yeo been #vincenzo x cha young #jang han seok #jang han seo #kwak dong yeon #ok taecyeon #let’s talk about series

500 notes · View notes

spookyfbi · 4 years ago

Note

what did cody said about klave?

Omg Anon okay so, twitter user umbrellaacademy invited Cody to do a twitter space with them which they did yesterday (8PM Friday EST) and Cody stayed for OVER TWO AND A HALF HOURS answering fan questions and saying SO MANY things about Dave and Klave and I am still so overwhelmed. I have recorded it and I’ve sent the video to the host and they’ve said they’ll release it soon (although the file is massive so I suspect they’ll have a bit of trouble wrangling it like I did so it might take longer). In the meantime, some highlights under the cut:

- Dave’s favourite thing about Klaus is his openness. He’s charismatic because he’s unafraid to be himself. Cody also finds it endearing that Klaus marches to the beat of his own drum.

- He likes the idea that the briefcase brought Klaus to Dave because of fate/destiny. Dave is the missing piece of Klaus, he fills a void in Klaus. He’s as interested as we are to find out if the timeline loops back in season 3

- Dave is soft spoken. There are qualities of Dave that have grounded and soothed Klaus but also Klaus has pulled Dave out of his shell. Klaus’ openness was like an invitation to Dave to open up and be goofy and strange, and this was a vibe Cody got from Robert as well in the bar scene, but then the dynamic shifted later and he felt that Dave was the one who was opening up first.

- Dave would go with Klaus to be with his family. He would want Klaus to take the reigns and would trust Klaus re- what kind of life they could have together post Vietnam. Although there would be no hesitation from Dave about his love for Klaus, there might be hesitation about planning a life together because of the time period they were in. There’s a sense of peace and wanting to settle from Klaus. Cody just basically being solidly on the Klaus bringing Dave back to 2019 to meet his family train.

- There is a sensitivity and self awareness to Dave, Cody thinks he accepted his sexuality but just was careful about advertising it because of the time period. He also says that his Dave in season 1 didn’t have the experience we saw in season 2 with his uncle and that might have made him more open (I am staring directly at my reverse George McFly theory).

- Dave’s love for Klaus is unconditional, he loves him for exactly who he is. Dave’s unconditional love is a foil for the conditional love Klaus gets from his family. Klaus doesn’t really know what love is and then he gets fired this laser beam of love from Dave.

- Cody that been in a play where his character was in a relationship with a guy but he thinks Rob hadn’t done that before. The director set the tone that the kiss scene was an intimate and tender scene. He feels like there was a reassurance from Dave to Klaus in that moment.

- Dave was holding 4 shot glasses in the scene where he’s holding them with both hands.

- Cody describing Dave in 4 words - kind, sensitive, empathetic, soft. Dave would describe Klaus as free spirited, open, unfiltered, unexpected (he also put forward chaotic but didn’t stick with it and replaced it with unexpected).

- Dave’s first thought when he woke up and saw Klaus was “Is this a dream... We’re not sleeping much so this could be a dream, I wouldn’t put it past my brain” Also “The dream coming to reality but maybe not necessarily looking like what he thought.”

- He thinks Klaus probably took the dogtags off Dave after he died as a way to remember him rather than them exchanging them

- He wants Klaus and Dave’s storyline to end with love prevailing. He also floats the idea of Dave taking a dark turn and Klaus has to be the redemptive person to bring Dave back.

In preparation for playing Dave he watched the Ken Burns Vietnam War documentary series on Netflix and also looked up online about the Vietnam war. He also listened to music he thought Dave would be into from 1965-1968: He mentions Motown and Stones (Cody said he himself likes Motown)

- Cody’s favourite thing about Dave is the quality of how he loves Klaus. He describes it as pure and unconditional and simple and he talks about he thinks people need to love each other fearlessly - not just romantically but in friendships as well, especially with what’s happening now (and this sort of clarifies to me why he was talking about love over fear so passionately in the clever klaus q&a and what he meant by that)

- Cody is a fantasy nerd

- He would love to see Dave giving Klaus some agency

- He thinks that Klaus has some guilt about Dave’s death

- He would like to play a Commission agent (Commission Dave rights!!)

- Robert is very open and unassuming and funny and it was easy to have an immediate rapport with him. Cody also talked with Tom Hopper (about their mutual friend Bradley James). He also briefly met Colm and Robin and he also remembered he met Aidan (who here had a theory about a deleted scene with Aidan in the attic?)

- He doesn’t know how time works in the afterlife or how Klaus’ power works but Dave would have waited 50 years for Klaus

- Calem joined the space and they said that they hadn't interacted before but they had a bit of a chat. Calem said that his filming in season 2 was 4 days but about 1 month apart. Calem’s internet kept cutting out and then he disappeared.

- If Dave was one of the 43 children his power could be the care bear love blast and he could fire hot beams of love out of the hole in his chest. He would give Dave a more passive power to round out the more active powers the other Hargreeves have, like a healer

- The scene in the tent was filmed at the studio. The scene on the bus was shot outside. The scene in the trench was partly shot outside but some of it was shot in the studio as well (I wonder if he’s confusing that trench scene with the hallucination at the Rave though?)

- He said the scenes were beautifully lit (I beg to differ, Cody!)

- Klaus helped unlock that part of him (I think he means Dave’s sexuality) and he also says that Klaus was a very specific target to Dave’s love. Klaus seems like one in a million. When you love someone there’s something specific about them that pulls that out of you.

- Calem returns! He was in his room where the internet crapped out on him but then he went downstairs. Cody asked what it was like for Calem to come in and play an established character. Calem said he purposely didn’t talk with Cody about the character before playing him because he’d done the audition without knowing anything about the character so he didn’t want to risk doing something too different from what he’d done in the audition, but he did watch season 1. He also said he was a bit anxious about what the audience would think of him playing the character, and Cody went into acting mentor mode and said that he doesn’t think the job is about appeasing the fans but about trying to be as true as possible. He also said that Calem did a good job and he shouldn’t be hard on himself but Calem then said that he quickly got over it and he wasn’t thinking about it on set, just afterwards. Calem mentioned that he creeped Cody’s IMDB and he said that his dad was a camera operator on Lizzie Borden Chronicles this Cody guest starred in an episode of.

- Dave loves music like Cody. He mentioned Four Tops as another band and then Motown again. He thinks the bar scene shows Dave’s love of music but he wasn’t thinking about that at the time.

- Dave would be overstimulated at first if he came to the future because we’re bombarded with a lot more stimulus than in the 60s. The internet and iPhones would blow his mind. He let’s a “we’ll see” slip, which he then quickly corrects to “we would see”

- The kiss in the bar was definitely the first kiss and he thinks it happened a couple months into the tour. He thinks the feelings were mutual quite early, but that it would have taken some time to act on them and to be able to gauge if each other were really giving off the signals that they like each other.

- He’s appreciative of the fan love and he tries to make a connection with everyone he can

- Dave is an optimistic force who thinks that love will prevail so he would have wanted to do something to make it work despite the obstacles they faced

- Cody doesn’t know how close to the vest Klaus kept the stuff about his powers and the time travel etc but he did see Klaus appear so he does know there’s something strange about him. Dave trusted Klaus and even if it wasn’t explicitly talked about there was enough trust to go “wherever you go I’ll follow, wherever that leads.” When Klaus conjures Dave, Dave is excited to see him but isn’t really surprised or put off by any of the circumstances that Klaus is in.

- He thinks that Dave is more the listener of the relationship, but he could certainly see Dave telling Klaus about Dune and Klaus indulging him.

- Rob is very genuine, very unassuming, very immediately open, very funny, definitely puts you at ease, incredibly thoughtful, very considerate, good dude (wow it’s the complimenting Rob speed run! 8 in a row!)

- The aspect of Dave that Cody connects to most is his non-judgemental quality

- Dave would connect with Vanya’s softness and Luther’s moral compass (he said Diego’s moral compass in the cleverklaus q&a so not sure if he just mixed them up). He thinks Dave might be a bit too sincere for Five and Ben would appreciate being able to unload Klaus on Dave.

- He thinks Dave is not a tattoo guy but Klaus is impulsive so getting a tattoo really aligns with his personality. He thinks that Dave’s actions speak louder than words written on him

- He connects to the fractured family theme of the show on a personal level

- Dave being jewish was something he only learned about through looking at the dogtags, it wasn’t in the script or anything

- Dave might have studied Philosophy if he’d gone to college instead of joining the military, he feels like there’s a dreamer quality to Dave

- Even though Dave was pressured into joining the military, he thinks that Dave believed he was going the right thing by enlisting

- Colm is a Canadian Hall of Fame actor and Reginald is such an intense character so Cody would love to do a scene with him. He would also love to do a scene with Elliot.

- Cody remembered waiting on set to film the scene in the club and he, Rob and Tom were in an 80s hotel with a heart shaped jacuzzi (??? oh was this the set with the Handler and Agnes maybe?)

#the umbrella academy #dave katz #klave #cody ray thompson

163 notes · View notes

cdroloisms · 4 years ago

Text

more of the mutually assured destruction duo, post-prison this time! this one was really fun, thinking about what this dynamic might be like in the future gives me SO much brainrot, im so excited. this one’s also a little dark, so make sure to read the warnings + tags !! :D

tw: implied prison abuse, starvation, toxic relationship, touch starvation, manipulation, panic attack, trauma, blood, injury

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison.

And it's ironic, because Wilbur hasn't even been around, has been in hell for fuck's sake playing Competitive Solitaire for nine-odd years, but even he could've seen the self-destruction hanging like a cloud around the other's head from a million miles (and several months? years?) away. Perhaps, he thinks wryly, you can only see the signs when you've lived them, or maybe red flags don't raise alarm when you’ve painted the entire figure in blood, but it doesn't really matter, in the end, because the final result is the same.

Still, it's just a little funny when he's stopped in the middle of his journey through the Nether, not a piece of armor on him per usual and an unused netherite sword slung over his hip.

"Hello, Sapnap." The kid is standing in front of him, eyes gleaming in badly-hidden anger and desperation, smoke rising from the mottled red-black skin on his hands. "Fancy seeing you around."

"You-" Sapnap sputters, unable to speak as his face flushes red in frustration, and Wilbur smiles at him condescendingly. The expression on the other's face is one he's seen before - one Tommy had been particularly inclined to give him in the past, when his emotions raged so heavily that there was nothing for the pressure to do but build, too thick and heavy to force themselves out of his throat. "You're monsters," Sapnap manages, finally, and Wilbur quirks an eyebrow.

At least we're self-aware, he thinks, the all-too-familiar twinge of irritation at Tommy's - and apparently, Sapnap's particular brand of reckless naivety pulsing at the base of his skull. He lets none of these thoughts show on his face as he cocks his head to the side, smiles wider - and Sapnap, just like Tommy, takes the bait.

'Why are you smiling?" He looks achingly young - they all do, really, their expressions and reactions dripping with a sort of innocence and sincerity that dissolved from Wilbur's own face somewhere around the fifteen-hundreth game of poker, and it really does feel ironic, how quickly the outside world can fall apart compared to the unending constancy of the void - but he digresses.

He didn't know Sapnap well before his whole death thing, and as much as he wants to use his partner to get information on the other members of the server, he doesn't really think Dream is really even lucid enough for that - the man clearly hasn't been thinking clearly, not for a long time. It doesn't matter, though, because you learn to read people when your life becomes nothing but running the same broken-edged memories over and over again in your mind and smiling jaggedly over the same few card games - Wilbur had always been a people watcher, and Sapnap's feelings are stamped on every corner of his face.

"Monster, huh," he says, saying the word slowly, rolling it over his tongue like he's tasting it for the first time, watching from the corner of his eye as Sapnap squirms, "Interesting word you've got here. You use it often?"

Sapnap bristles, smoke curling from his nostrils - "It's what you are, dickhead."

Rolling his eyes internally, Wilbur keeps up the act, humming as he fiddles idly with his cufflink. "I mean, if you really believe that," he rocks forward on his right foot, stifling a smile at the way the younger draws back, "But really, it's all a matter of perspective." He twists himself around, pivoting around his heel, beginning to walk in an arc around Sapnap's left side, watching as he spins around, shoulders drawn up to his ears. "What do you think?"

"I think that you're full of shit," he says, voice flat, and Wilbur laughs. It's genuine, really, because well - Sapnap's different. He's fun; the entire server is, after so long in the void. You can only spend so much time with the same two people before they drive you a little up the metaphorical wall, but Sapnap's reactions are fresh and new and different, still saturated with vitality that hasn’t been leached out by the same deck of cards in the same scarred hands shuffled and reshuffled for eternity. He's interesting, and new, and most of all, predictable.

"Say, Sapnap," he continues, blowing over the other's anger, knowing that it'll only make the frustration build more. He lets his hair flop lazily over one eye, lets his smile grow wider, lips pressed together in amusement, turns his face so that it's lit eerily by the lava lake beneath them. "If we're monsters for, I don't know, setting off a few stacks of TNT," he waves his hand flippantly, watching the muscle of the other's jaw jump in poorly-hidden rage, "What does that make you for what you did to Dream?"

Sapnap's eyes go wide, and Wilbur knows he's struck the jackpot. He lets his lips part to reveal bared teeth, jagged and glinting in the light. "I'm sorry, did that hit a nerve?"

The kid's mouth opens- closes- emotions warring on his face, fists curling and uncurling at his sides, lip trembling. "We- we had to-" his hands come to his face, palms digging into his eyes, and while he's not looking, Wilbur draws his expression back a bit, becoming softer, more welcoming. When Sapnap looks back up, his eyes are shining, hands shaking still; he steps forward, then rocks back on his back foot like he doesn't know where to go. "What do you mean?" he throws the words like they're meant to be a threat, but by the end his voice has devolved into something high-pitched and keening, overflowing with desperate grief that Wilbur latches onto like a starving man (ha) with his last meal.

"I'm sorry, it does seem rather insensitive for me to assume," he resumes pacing around the other, voice lilting, soft, "I just mean, it seemed pretty obvious, don't you think? I don't think I've ever seen someone so skinny, really, but I guess that is what happens when you get starved,"

"Shut up-"

"Not to mention the whole panicking thing, I mean, he's like Tommy sometimes with all of the fucking shaky breathing and mumbling around like creepers, not that I'd know what all of that's about," he watches Sapnap through half-hooded eyes, darkly amused, "and pickaxes, oddly enough, but oh well. Who am I to judge?"

"Shut up-"

"And all of the scars - I thought they were from you, honestly, he told me about the whole 'taking his last life' thing, but then he jumped into lava one day - I guess there wasn't much to do in that cell, huh? He didn't even scream, it's really pretty fucking incredible - I thought I'd actually have to break him down a bit, but really, you've made my life so much easier-"

"SHUT UP-"

Wilbur watches with a too-wide grin as Sapnap finally, finally charges, a netherite sword appearing in his hand as he races blindly ahead, tears shining on his cheeks, his words more pain than thought as he brings the blade down-

A blur of purple, the sound of crumbling netherrack and metal meeting metal, flesh hitting flesh - Wilbur moves smoothly out of the way as Sapnap crashes to the ground, an armored figure bearing down an axe against the shield he's raised between them.

Dream, hair tangled and long, wearing armor that is far too heavy for his skinny frame, every inch of him shaking in panic, should hardly be a threat - but this is Sapnap, weakened by Wilbur's sharp words and crippled by the shock of seeing his former best friend's face again, eyes still unfocused from the rage and tears that had clouded over them moments before, so he can do little but raise his shield as the netherite slams into it, again and again. Not a word falls from Dream's lips, but he brings down the weapon at a ruthless pace - ever since he's been free, his attack style has changed greatly from the defensive style he used to favor, even to Wilbur's untrained eye - there's no skill, no art to the way he attacks anymore, just the fearful ferocity of a dog trapped in a cage for far, far too long.

He finally kicks Sapnap down the netherrack cliff that they're on, the other man left to nurse his wounds below them - Wilbur doesn't bother sparing him another thought; Dream's far too weak to cause any permanent damage. Instead, he approaches his partner, weapon, with a smile, watching, satisfied, when he whirls around with a manic expression.

"I'm alright, see?" he croons as Dream's shoulders move up and down with his heaving breaths, eyes fever-bright, teeth bared. He brings a hand down on the other's shoulder and watches as he flinches at the movement, breath hitching, every muscle freezing, knuckles pale on the handle of his axe, before moving again, stumbling forwards, hands reaching for Wilbur's head and stopping halfway. Wilbur tips his head forward, lets the shorter brush his face with trembling fingers, checking his unmarred skin for blood through the purpling bruises already forming on his cheek, and thinks how powerful he is to have a god at his beck and call, a perfect attack dog brought to heel, death itself obediently at his side.

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison, and as Wilbur runs his hand up and down his back, feeling the way his spine arches at the touch, at the fluttering pulse under the skin-and-bone wrist under his fingers, he thinks how fortunate he is to be the first to notice.

#old stuff :]#queue <3 #tw abuse #tw panic attack #tw manipulation #tw toxic relationship #tw blood #tw injury #tw trauma #tw touch starvation #mutually assured destruction duo my beloved #post prison dream brainrot always lmao #my writing :D #my asks !!

228 notes · View notes

therenlover · 3 years ago

Text

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk (A Young Revolutionary!Zemo x Non-Binary Reader Oneshot)

(a/n: so, in honor of barricade day, have this young revolutionary!Zemo fic, which is basically just canon Enjoltaire dynamics but with a Zemo/reader twist on it, because that dynamic is literally my whole heart. Consider this a weird twisted Les Mis au if you want to, but you don’t need to know the book or musical to enjoy this, if it can be enjoyed...)

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Young!Zemo, Non-Binary!Reader, Death, Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers????, Implied Sexual Content, Friendship, Pining, Revolution, Speedrunning A Slow Burn

Rating: M (+16)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Drinking, Minor Homophobia/Transphobia (it’s one sentence near the end and it’s very vague coming from Heinrich), Swearing, Survivor’s Guilt, Really Just Death Everywhere

Word Count: 10,200~

“What’s with the mask?”

The question was innocent enough.

Sam posed it while lounging on the expensive couch of Zemo’s Riga apartment, head tilted back and eyes closed in silent contemplation.

Bucky remained silent as Zemo glanced over from his place at the counter. Outside, the sun was long gone, giving way to a stunning moonrise over the city that poured through the stained glass windows and lit up the night with its glow. It was quiet, much quieter than things usually were between the trio. Still, things being quiet didn’t mean they weren’t tense.

Clenching his teeth, he took in a long breath through his nose. “I am unsure what you mean by that, Sam,”

“The mask,” Sam pushed, “you know, the one you wore during the fight in Madripoor. What’s the deal with that?”

“Ah yes. That mask,” As if on cue, Zemo took a long swig from his glass. It burned all the way down. He didn’t speak again, though, instead choosing to let his gaze fall on the elaborate tilework above his countertops, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Anything to divert himself from the thoughts that rushed back into his mind at the thought of the knit piece of cloth that sat firmly in his inner coat pocket.

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t satisfied with letting the topic fizzle out. “Come on man,” he griped, rubbing a hand over his face, “we got you out of prison, so you owe us one. In fact, you owe us a lot. So, spill. What the hell is the deal with it? Were you Sokovian batman or something?”

That urged a dry laugh from the baron’s lips as he set his crystal glass on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you always so interested in your captives’ personal lives?”

“Usually,” Bucky chimed in dryly.

“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Zemo sighed. The bile rising in his throat was easy enough to force down as he turned himself out on his stool to face the room. It wasn’t the right time for true weakness, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that painting himself in a desirable light and offering the pair honesty might give him the upper hand. So, he folded.

Slowly he retrieved the purple mask from his coat and turned it over in his hands. It still fit after all the years it had sat gathering dust in his storage unit which was a blessing in its own right. It still served its original purpose too. That mask had seen horrors beyond imagination, had been washed clean of blood more times than could be counted. Did it hold the memories of the things it had seen within its fabrics as Zemo did in his mind? Or was it as naive as he had been at the time of its creation? He let out a bitter laugh. That was a question they would have asked him.

As he exchanged his literal mask for one entirely emotional, Zemo leaned back on his stool and managed a smile. “How educated are you on Sokovian politics?”

Sam shut his eyes again, letting his head lol back once more. “I went to public school, so I don’t think I even knew Sokovia existed until it didn’t,”

“I know enough,” Bucky added. From his place leaning against the way, ever vigilant and ready to jump into an imagined battle, he turned to face Zemo and crossed his arms. “Hydra had fingers in the government there, more so than other places. There was a big power struggle in the ’90s when the king died, right? Because people wanted democracy, and they didn’t want the little shithead prince to take over,”

“Yes,” Zemo nodded, “My cousin Emil. I’m glad you’re familiar,”

A spluttered laugh escaped Sam’s lips as he shot up. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this stuff anymore, but damn,”

“He and I weren’t close,” Zemo waved his hand dismissively, and yet there was a strange sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t for his cousin, though. Not in the least. “But James was correct, there were riots in the streets when the king died. They were shut down quickly by the National Guard, though, who had more than a little help from Hydra’s favorite supersoldiers once they realized just how much power the citizens held. What street were you assigned to, James?”

Bucky sucked in his cheeks, eyes falling to the floor, but before Sam could butt in and defend him he had muttered an answer. “I cleared the barricade at 18th Avenue, the second largest. Those kids fought valiantly,”

Zemo hummed lowly. “And so they did,”

“Okay, what does any of this have to do with your stupid purple mask?” Sam exclaimed.

He was sitting up fully now, face turned to where Zemo had stood from his stool and begun to round the bar. His mask still sat in a small ball on the marble. It seemed to be a member of the conversation all its own, silent and sure, drawing all three men together as it weaved a story from the past into the present with its very presence.

“That mask served me well and hid my identity when I stood against the very men that were serving my family,” Zemo muttered, letting his fingers brush the fabric gently. The names of the lost sat heavy on his very soul even if they would never pass from his lips.

Hans, Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, Anton, Lazlo, Nicholas, little Sebastian…

Y/N.

“I was young then, too young for my own good,” he said softly, “naive and hopeful and convinced that the world was able to change for the better if I simply willed it to be… so when I discovered the connection between my family and Hydra I packed up my things, emptied my bank account, and moved into a tiny apartment with another like-minded friend, Hans Perlitch,” a soft laugh escaped him, genuine and youthful and all too honest, “We preached to the hungry masses of a world free from the thumb of the elite and all the while we would return home to a heated apartment and a stocked pantry. Still, we were well-liked and gathered a bit of a following. That was when everything changed, the early fall of 1997…”

------------

“You know, for someone who claims to be as smart as you say you are, you’re quite a fool,”

The voice came from the back of the room, smoke still hanging thick in the air from the cigarettes shared by the masses of students that had packed the tiny repurposed stockroom of the bar while Helmut had given his speech for the week.

He didn’t give the interloper the dignity of his full attention as he gathered a few of his scattered notes from the table that served as his soapbox. Still, he was in a generally good mood. Almost double the usual students had shown up for the meeting and a few had even chimed in to ask questions, so he took a deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that rooting out one ignorant opposer now would mean less work in the long run. “I’ve never claimed to be smart, so I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to,”

A scoff came from the back of the room, but the person made no effort to come closer. “You can change your last name and present yourself as a member of the public all you want, but someday someone is gonna recognize that pretty face of yours, and your whole revolution is going to come crumbling to the ground,”

Now that was enough to make him pause.

“How did you-”

“How could I not?”

It was sardonic, biting and harsh in the worst of ways. Everything about the tone made Helmut’s blood boil beneath his skin. He was not one who enjoyed being threatened or outdone. Still, the play was out of his hands now, should this strange intruder choose to ruin him.

Biting his tongue, he finally turned to face them. “You have my attention, now what do you want?”

Across the room, the stranger remained unphased. They were relatively unremarkable, a bottle of cheap beer held firmly in their grip as they toasted to nothing and drank down the remaining dregs. With a smile and a chuckle, they propped their feet up on the small, round table before them. Something about that sight lit a fire in Helmut’s chest. He didn’t know who they were, or why he was there, but he was certain that he despised them already.

“I don’t want anything,” They replied, and with a certain grandness reserved for a gamin mocking the bourgeoisie, they flourished with their hands, letting their booted feet drop to the ground as they stood and bowed. “I’m just saying that if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not the missing baron while you’re pretending to be all impoverished and rallying us commoners, you might want to change more than your last name and your fashion sense,”

Helmut gritted his teeth. “So what? Did you come here just to rub my face in it, or are you going to help me make a change?”

That elicited a small snort from the stranger, but they did take the opportunity to traipse up to meet him at his table, leaning on the edge as they gazed up at him with a strange look in their eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. Their face was soft upon closer examination, alive and bright with a merriment that only came from intoxication. It made Helmut sneer involuntarily.

Licking their lips, they murmured, “Make a change? Is that what you think you’re doing?” and as they let a giggle escape their parted lips Helmut lost it.

He gasped them firmly by the front of their baggy sweater and dragged them in close. “At least I’m trying! What are you doing about it? Extorting the only person who might be able to actually make a change in this shithole of a country? That’s so much more helpful!”

Their faces were inches apart as Helmut spat his words like venom and yet the stranger never stopped smiling. It was almost dopey, the grin that made its way across their lips. Helmut couldn’t stand it.

“You know, baron,” they purred, setting down their empty bottle on the table beside them, “I like you. I might just stick around here for a little while, see what else about your little plan I can pick apart,”

Never in his life had Helmut been less thrilled for someone to join his cause.

“Why are you here anyway,” he groaned, releasing their shirt, “don’t you have something better to do with your Friday night than bother me?” and, as an extra jab, he added, “besides drinking yourself to death, of course,”

The jab didn’t land, though.

Taking it all in stride, the stranger simply grinned as if they too knew how badly they stank of cheap alcohol and was thrilled that someone had noticed. “Anton invited me. He said I should get out more, make some friends. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to recognize you while writing down an itemized list of all the things you got wrong while you grandstanded,” There was a pride in their words, a giddy energy burbling just beneath the surface of their skin, and suddenly it all made sense.

Anton was newer to their group, a poet and a free thinker, something hard to find in the slums of Novi Grad. Still, he lightened the impromptu meetings up with his smile and would often spend the hour scrawling away fervently in his notebook as he immortalized each and every word that was said “for posterity”. Helmut was sure that only someone as accepting as Anton would ever choose to spend their time with someone quite as insufferable as the person before him. Suddenly, and uncomfortably, he became aware that he didn’t even know their name.

Swallowing down a nasty barb, Helmut sighed and offered up his hand, which the stranger took after a moment of pause. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” They replied.

“Well, Y/N,” he spat their name from his mouth like a cherry pit, “I suppose I’ll have to get used to having a man like you-”

“Don’t call me that,”

Helmut cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“Don’t call me a man,” Y/N replied, “and before you ask I don’t want to be called a woman either. I’m just… I’m just Y/N, at least for now I am, it’s not like I’d give a rich brat like you my legal name while we’re mixed up in all this illegal, halfway-treasonous nonsense you insist on spouting. Maybe next week I’ll be something completely different and new. Until I tell you otherwise, though, I’m just Y/N, your highness,”

“Do I dare dream that that means you might learn to respect my ideas?” Helmut sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and choosing to ignore the sarcastic address in the hopes of letting such things fizzle and die without encouragement. Unfortunately, the goofy grin he got in return told him that was wishful thinking.

Suddenly, the door opened and Helmut jumped away from his newest tentative ally (if you could call them that) to find Hans standing in the doorway. At his side was Andrei, the third in command of their little posse and final member of the leading triumvirate. They seemed shocked at his lateness and he was quick to try to gather himself up lest they see him as undone as he had found himself while facing the smallest taste of Y/N’s antagonistic nature.

What had he even been doing when they interrupted him? It took him a moment to even gather himself together enough to remember. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the papers

Oh yes, he had been gathering up his notes…

He was quick to finish the task as Y/N sauntered away towards the door, preparing to push past the two men who stood beyond it.

“You’re Anton’s friend, right?” Hans asked, back stiff. When Y/N nodded he did little more than give a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat. He had always been good with making things impersonal as he crunched the numbers and calculated probabilities. That was why Helmut liked him so much.

Andrei, on the other hand, provided a needed warmth to their leadership in his outreach.

He smiled warmly at Y/N and clapped a hand on their shoulder. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around,”

Y/N was quick to offer one of their signature grins before winking back at Helmut in a way that made his stomach turn. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of me from now on,”

“We’re glad to have you,” Andrei replied as they passed.

Before they fully left, though, they turned one last time to shoot Helmut a final smile. “Till next Friday, fearless leader,”

Then, Y/N was gone, lost in the crowd of revelers beyond the small, smokey storeroom and, more importantly, beyond where Helmut’s eyes could follow. Somehow, despite everything, he missed having them there. He quickly chalked the feeling up to wanting to keep a close eye on people with the ability to thwart his best-laid plans and left it at that. Besides, he had no room in his heart for anything besides the betterment of Sokovia.

Attachments meant the possibility of other priorities, and other priorities got people killed. He couldn’t have that happening on his watch.

Thankfully, Hans snapped him out of his melancholy quickly. “Do you have everything sorted?”

Helmut gave a short nod before tapping the pile of papers against the table and setting out towards the door, abandoning his thoughts and feelings about his interaction with Y/N at the table as he exited the room and gathered himself once more into the man his friends needed him to be.

He could only hope that as long as he ignored Y/N’s jabs, they would soon grow tired and be gone within the month once they realized he was anything but afraid of their little games.

------------

Much to Helmut’s abject disappointment, Y/N did not, in fact, stop showing up.

They did quite the opposite.

Instead of leaving him well enough alone, they showed up to Helmut’s meetings every single Wednesday and Friday for months, always piss drunk and happy to jeer at him from the corner, shouting their unwanted opinions and throwing off every meeting with their nonsense.

It was as if they did it just to get on his nerves, and get on his nerves they did.

As the seasons changed, from spring, to winter, to fall, and, finally, to the very beginnings of summer, so did the types of jabs Y/N decided to throw.

In the beginning it was all business, comments on the idiocy of his plans for a protest based on common police routes or mocking jokes about his unending optimism when it came to fighting the national guard on a large scale, but as things began to get more and more serious on the path towards a full-fledged revolt, they seemed to aim more and more of their vitriol towards Helmut personally.

Sometimes it was a comment on his face or voice. “Ease up pretty boy,” they’d jeer, “keep talking like that and a guardsman might just do more than knock out a few of your perfect teeth,” Other times, which Helmut found infinitely worse, they’d throw a jab at his ability to lead them to victory. “The only thing that waits for us at the end of this is a painful death, especially if you’re not joking about those fucking super soldiers they supposedly have on ice,”

The worst part was that half the time, Y/N was right.

Helmut hated to admit it but it was true. More than once he had to go back and edit his plans to take into account a valid point thrown in by Y/N that he had never even considered. Hell, if it had been anyone else picking him to nothing he would have been grateful, but it wasn’t a well-meaning contributor trying to make the world a better place, it was a drunk who seemed to have one solitary life goal: making his life as miserable as possible. Perhaps that’s why they had devolved to frantic angry fucks behind crates of wine and massive cans of chocolate spread after the worst of their arguments…

Not that Helmut cared for them.

No, he didn’t do attachments. Neither did Y/N. They hated each other, after all.

It was just a way to release their tensions at the end of stressful meetings and nothing more. They were dealing with matters of life and death after all. It was only normal to seek comfort in the warmth of a companion, if he could even call Y/N a companion.

Whether he liked it or not, though, they were they to stay, even if they rarely made themself useful to the cause.

By early June, the drunkard had become close friends with all of the remaining students that still gathered at Helmut’s location for meetings instead of ending up at the offshoots that began to form once the group got too big to pile into the storeroom. Helmut loathed thinking about it, but Y/N was probably invited to more birthdays and Saturday night get-togethers than he ever was. There was something about their smile that drew people in. It made them feel wanted, welcome. Helmut hated that he never got those smiles from Y/N, only ever the mocking, blithe kind that they handed out freely to friends and enemies alike.

He didn’t have time to think about that, though. Not with so much fast approaching as the first pears began to hang from branches down in the royal orchards, soft and ripe and ready to be harvested. Their growth marked King Hugo’s daily weakening. His death could come any day, and when it did, Helmut knew he would need to strike quickly if he truly hoped to overturn the system before the coronation of his cousin. That meant every meeting, now more frequently held throughout the week, was filled to the brim with preparations and planning.

Well, preparations and planning and a healthy dose of Y/N and Helmut yelling at each other about nonsense across the room until Anton or Laszlo stepped in to pull Y/N down into their chair once more so the meeting could resume and they could all go home before things got too late and they were questioned in the street on why they were possibly out and about at such an hour.

Things were no different on that Friday meeting on June 4th.

“Is there anyone here who isn’t already passing out pamphlets in the dorms at NVU tonight?” Helmut asked the room, scanning for a hand that didn’t belong to his least favorite member of the group. Unfortunately, none came up. “Come one now, at least one of you has to be free,”

Y/N groaned. “It’s like you don’t even see my hand waving up here, oh great one,” There they went again with the ridiculous terms of address that made Helmut’s blood sizzle in his veins. He remained composed, though. At least, as composed as he could be given the situation.

“I’m ignoring you because I remember the last time I asked your drunk ass to pass out pamphlets. What round of dominos were you on by the time I showed up to check on you, five or six?”

The scalding remark was enough to get Y/N to sheepishly lower their hand, eyes downcast. It was getting easier and easier for Helmut to manage to shut them up the more frantic meetings got, and he couldn’t say he was displeased by that fact no matter why it was the way that it was. A quiet Y/N meant less chance for mistakes which meant fewer future casualties. Fewer casualties were good, it was what he strived for.

Thankfully for Helmut, a new hand came up.

It belonged to Vladimir, the oldest of the group by a year rounding out at an even 26 years old. He was dependable, definitely the kind who could be trusted to run an errand as important as the one Helmut needed to have done. The thought that Vladimir would be the one to pick up the shipment of smuggled guns was a relief. He made as much evident while explaining their next moves.

Throughout the remainder of the meeting, though, Helmut couldn’t help but feel watched. It didn’t last long, half an hour at most. Still, there was the creeping itch on the back of his neck that told him there were eyes on him that he wasn’t aware of. Only when the group was dismissed and the feeling didn’t go away did he realize exactly who was staring at him so intently.

“I hope you know I really did intend to hand out those pamphlets,” Y/N said once they were the last one remaining, the rest of the group having trickled out to get food and drinks before heading home for the night. It wasn’t unusual for Helmut and Y/N to be the last two remaining at the end of a meeting. That didn’t mean he was happy about it though.

So, instead of offering up an acknowledgment, he busied himself with plotting out a few potential spots to barricade the roads and hunker down when things got messy in highlighter on the large, laminated map of Novi Grad that had found its home on the big front table.

Y/N didn’t let up, though. They never did. “I know you don’t believe me, why would you, but I did. I just wanted to loosen them up before I started talking about overthrowing the damn government, which is a terrible plan, by the way. Have I told you that lately?”

“Only every time you see me,” Helmut sighed.

Somehow, that made Y/N smile, soft and sarcastic and all too honest. Helmut didn’t know how they managed it. Secretly, he envied their neverending veracity. He’d never say that though. No, not while they crossed the floor and offered up a large bottle of whiskey.

“A drink, dear leader?”

“Absolutely not” He griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I need to remind you I don’t drink?”

“Too many,”

“For once, I agree with you,”

A laugh passed through Y/N’s plush lips and, regrettably, Helmut couldn’t help but look up at them and relish in the sight. Their hair was a bit longer than they usually grew it out, a particularly unruly piece tucked behind their ear. Helmut hated that he noticed little details like that, despised the way he had come to know the soft dip of their cupid’s bow and the warmth of their palm. It was still Y/N, after all, for better or worse. He couldn’t help but allow himself those small recognitions though. It made him feel human, or something close to it.

Still, all good things must come to an end, and they did when Y/N decided to speak again. “You know, the longer I show up for these stupid meetings, the more I think you’re actually gonna try to go up against those bastards,”

Helmut should have known the barb was coming, but perhaps his better nature, if it truly existed, prevented that. Nevertheless, he sighed into his hands as he dropped his highlighter. “If I didn’t intend to actually try to change things, why would I have spent the last year of my life living in a shitty apartment and putting up with you?”

“You’d be surprised the things people do and never finish. Not everyone is as driven as you are,” Y/N huffed. They were quick to seat themself on the table once Helmut wasn’t actively working over it, smearing the highlighter away on their corduroy pants. “Nobody would blame you if you did tap out, you know. There are plenty of ways to make a change that don’t involve trying to take down the entire local Sokovian military force until they decide to give you what you want,”

“The changes we could make without a revolt wouldn’t really be changes, they’d just be the illusion of changes. You know that as well as I do,” Helmut replied with a groan.

Two of the fingers from Y/N’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping their bottle like a lifeline, pointed towards the closed door behind them. “Is living under our current system and knowing they have fingers in a few less-than-savory organizations really worse than leading all of your friends to their deaths?”

That struck a nerve in Helmut’s chest.

“And who says that has to be true?”

“Come on, oh benevolent and giving baron,” Y/N’s voice was light yet pointed, like a million minuscule particles of glass flying through the air, “Do you really think we’re all gonna make it out of a fight with the big guys? And even if all of us do, can you say the same for the poor kids fighting where we aren’t?”

“I never said there would be no casualties-”

“What about Sebastian? The kid is barely 12 and I know you’re going to say that if he tries to show up, you’re gonna send him home, but I think you underestimate how many people will want even someone as young as him dead if they catch him in the street. Are you really going to let him risk his life for this? A half-assed plan for you to get revenge on your asshole relatives for making your childhood shitty?”

“You know that’s not what this is about,”

“Do I?” Y/N asked, and for just a second, no, a millisecond, Helmut wasn’t sure anymore. It was only a brief moment though, nothing more. The fact that they could make him doubt himself do deeply though… it was a problem. Calling it that was an understatement, but there was no other way to put it that truly worked.

Helmut growled lowly and nodded, pushing the doubt from his mind. He was right. He had to be right. What would he be if he was wrong? A spoiled rich boy who was leading his friends to their dooms for nothing?

No.

He had to be right, so he was. It was as simple as that.

“Is there anything else you need to critique, or can you leave me to work now?” Helmut asked. His patience had long since worn thin. That didn’t matter much to Y/N, though. They liked to wear him down thin, see just how far they could push without breaking his resolve. It was a game they were both intimately acquainted with.

They played their hand expertly. “In fact,” Y/N smiled while they spoke, another mocking little grin that made Helmut’s stomach turn in the best and worst of ways, “there is one last thing I needed to ask about,”

“I shudder to think what it might be,”

“How are you going to hide your face?”

The question caught Helmut off-guard as he leaned back on his heels, letting his forearms brace against the edge of the table, his face scrunching up in thought. “What?”

Y/N gestured absently towards his face before bringing their bottle to their lips. “I’m betting that your family will expect you to be out there whenever we actually stage our attack. If I’m right, that means the soldiers will be looking for you as their top priority, and if they find you, they’ll kill everybody around you just to get a chance to drag you back to mommy and daddy. Even if they don’t kill us on sight we’ll be charged for harboring you without turning you in to the proper authorities. So, how are you going to hide your face?”

Once again, Helmut found himself thinking that, despite their drunken stupor, Y/N might just be right, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn’t thought of it first, hated that it was a valid point, hated that he had no satisfying way to answer the question they had posed. He hated it all.

“I’ll just throw on a bandana,” He managed to grumble, and that was that.

Or, that should have been that, but Y/N scoffed at the idea, setting down their bottle and leaning in close to Helmut’s face. After a moment of contemplation, they brought their hand up to his face and let their thumb come to rest on one of his largest beauty marks, the mole that rested high on the left side of his nose. “I’m afraid that a bandana isn’t going to cover up your absolutely blinding radiance, fearless leader,” There was a softness to their voice, a gentility Helmut was unused to. It made his chest hurt. He hated that too.

“Are you going to offer a solution or are you just going to sit there telling me I’m stupid,” His words were a low groan.

Much to his surprise, though, Y/N reached into their back pocket only to pass him a crumpled purple ball. It was obviously fabric, though the outside seemed to be coated in some sort of weatherproofing, and upon closer inspection, once unraveled, two distinct eyeholes became visible.

“Is this-”

“A mask?” Y/N finished his sentence for him, “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t think about it, so I whipped something up with some old polyester-based yarn and then I coated it so it wouldn’t be a problem if it got wet. It should still be breathable, though,”

For the first time since he’d known them, Helmut looked up at Y/N and thought that they were incredibly valuable. He still hated them, of course he did. Y/N was Y/N and he was himself and they hated each other because they were, at their basest, entirely incompatible.

At his silence, Y/N looked away, almost nervous. “I hope it’s alright,”

“It’s more than alright,” Helmut said as kindly as he could possibly manage, “I hate to say this, but owe you one,”

“Could I collect on that debt now?” Minutely, Y/N leaned closer, eyes falling to Helmut’s lips.

He swallowed thickly. “You’re drunk, Y/N,”

“I know I am. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Why would that be wonderful?”

“Because that means I won’t remember this,” And, with that, they closed the gap between the two of them and captured Helmut’s lips in his own.

Kissing Y/N wasn’t a new thing. They had kissed plenty of times during their frenzied hookups; soft kisses and hard kisses and long kisses and short kisses. Still, Helmut would never get used to the thrill of it. That was yet another thing he hated about Y/N. He could never quite get used to them. Every single interaction always felt as fresh and raw as their first.

With a fervor only he could muster, Helmut kissed back and pushed at Y/N’s hips, pressing them harder into the table below, and just as quickly as he had gained a physical mask, he had lost his emotional one.

------------

In the end, that was the last time Helmut had slept with Y/N.

They had fallen together, two sweaty half-dressed bodies laid out over the laminated map of Novi Grad, and then Y/N had gathered themself up and left with little more than one last kiss pressed to Helmut’s temple. By the time he himself had gotten home to Hans, the news of King Hugo’s death was almost an hour old.

After a few phone calls to lay the final plans and keep every sect of their band of revolutionaries on the same schedules, things rolled into motion like a finely tuned machine.

On the morning of June 5th, the barricades rose and Helmut wore his mask proudly as his people fought for freedom in the streets he had walked since childhood. Y/N was beside him.

By the early hours of June 6th, they were the only barricade that remained.

Helmut should have known that once things got too challenging that the super soldiers would be released, he should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for the backlash once king Hugo passed, and yet he hadn’t. He had blindly walked into the disaster with his eyes wide open. There was no one to blame but himself.

Little Sebastian, just one month shy of 13 years old, was dead, shot at long distance when he had attempted to grab a fallen box of bullets that had toppled over the peak of the jumble of hoarded furniture and scrap metal. Anton was dead too, taken at gunpoint while he stood guard at a side street and executed with his eyes bound and a sonnet on his lips. Even Ivan, stoic and strong Ivan who bound his knuckles in boxer’s tape and sparred with Helmut when he needed to clear his head, had been caught in the initial fire and bled out over the course of the day, dying with a smile on his face as he leaned on a discarded chair.

I never said there’d be no casualties.

His own words rang in his ears, taunted him with every bullet he shot and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs. How had he ever been so naive to believe that even one life could be expendable?

The real lowest point came at almost midnight when Helmut picked up a call from a student on another barricade only to met with screaming. “Winter is coming!” They had wailed, “Winter is coming!” and then they had died, right there over speakerphone. Helmut had the good sense to hang up once it got to the worst of it, the strangled gurgled growing to be too much for the group.

As things truly settled, in those hours so early that the world still considered them night, Helmut still stood vigilant. That’s when Y/N finally approached.

They wore no smile, not like usual. Instead, their face was stoic as they came to stand beside Helmut and waited silently for a moment. He took the chance to beat them to the punch.

“You don’t have to tell me you were right. I know you were,” I hate you for it.

Y/N offered a gentle, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in at a time like this, but yeah, I was,” I know you do. I hate myself for it too.

Slowly, Helmut brought a hand to his face, scrubbing the exhaustion away from his eyes. How had it all come to this?

“How much time do you think we have,” Y/N was speaking before he had a chance to say anything more, saving him from having to elaborate on his admission. He was grateful. Grateful to not be alone, grateful to be spared more shame, grateful to see Y/N’s gentle smile one more time. He’d never show it though. No, he was to be the fearless leader till the end.

So, he sucked in a deep breath and stared out into the starry sky. “A few hours at most. I’m surprised they haven’t made another advance after the last big push in the evening when we lost…” he swallowed thickly, “when we lost Anton,”

Licking their lips and pushing back their hair, Y/N sighed. “For what it’s worth, for a minute there I really believed you could do it,”

It was a bigger compliment than it seemed and they both knew it, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, Helmut gestured absently towards the half-full bottle of wine in Y/N’s hand. “You mind if I have a drink of that?”

A grin spread across their lips, but it was as far from mocking as was possible as they passed the bottle over.

“I never thought I’d see the day,”

Lifting the bottom of his mask to take a swig, Helmut groaned at the deep, bitter burn of it. “Don’t get used to it,” He replaced the fabric quickly before passing the bottle back.

“I’ll try not to,”

“Happy 20th, by the way,” Y/N added, “this is a hell of a way to celebrate, but it’s very you,”

Helmut froze as the realization sunk in that it was, in fact, the 6th of June, even if it had only been that way for a couple hours.

There had been a party planned. It was just an intimate thing, cake and a few card games in the afternoon with his closest friends, but that was long behind them now, forgotten in favor of the larger cause. To Y/N, though, there was never a larger cause than Helmut himself. He was realizing that slowly. In a bitter moment of realization, he laughed.

“What?”

“You weren’t invited,”

They quirked up an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“To the birthday party. I didn’t invite you,”

“Well, I’m here now, and this is a pretty good party if I do say so myself. You and me and the revolution all jam-packed together in the middle of a street. Wouldn’t it be cool if the new democracy was born on the same day you were?”

He smiled softly. “It was meant to be,”

“I got you something, you know, even though I knew I wasn’t invited to the party,” Y/N added breathlessly. “It was stupid, just some dumb sweater with a whole bunch of random ass quotes from Machiavelli all over the back, but Anton and I saw it when we visited the better side of town to hang up those fliers for the march a few weeks ago and we knew you had to have it. It’s sitting all wrapped up on my front table,”

“It’s a shame I won’t get to open it today,”

They nodded distantly. “Yeah, a real shame…”

Then, they were quiet again, staring up at the stars mere feet away from each other and yet miles apart, farther than they’d ever been.

Y/N cut through the soundless night first, but not before several silent minutes had passed, filled with only the distant chatter of their surviving friends and the gentle whistling of the breeze over the rooftops above. “When everything goes to shit… with the universe, I mean, not now. Everything’s already gone to shit now. But that notwithstanding, when the world goes kaput and the sun explodes, we’re all gonna be starstuff together, right? You and I and Sebastian and Andrei and Anton and… all of us. We’re gonna be nothing but matter and dust out there in space,”

“Is there a point to this or are you just having an existential crisis?” Helmut muttered, but there was no bite to it.

They just chuckled as their eyes scanned the sky.

“I was just thinking, if all of us are gonna be nothing more than matter and dust and star stuff, it only makes sense that someday, even if it’s a billion years from now, a little part of each of us will be together again as part of some supernova in the sky to be seen by somebody else, and, when that day comes, I think I’m gonna know, and everything is gonna be alright,”

He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand absently over the thick purple knit of his mask, relishing in the gummy softness of the coating on his bare fingertips in the cooling air. “That makes no sense,”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Still, it’s a pretty thought. Anton would have liked it,”

“Yeah, he would have…”

Helmut let his eyes fall from the sky to his companion. They looked so fragile, so broken, that he could barely stand himself, because, if he hadn’t made the stupid choices to lead them here, they never would have felt that way. They’d be curled up in bed somewhere, asleep and safe, far from the cold darkness of the night at his side. It made him sick.

How could he possibly put that to words? How could he apologize for denying every nudge, every chance to turn around? He couldn’t, and it made him as bitter as the wine that Y/N sipped from absently before turning to face him once again.

“Hey, Helmut,” they whispered, and his breath caught in his throat because how dare his voice sound so sweet on their lips? How dare they keep that joy, the joy of hearing his name whispered with reverence on the early morning breeze, real and caring and perfect, away from him for so long? “Do you think I could take a chair from the barricade?”

Just as soon as it had come, the joy was gone. “Why would you need a chair?”

Y/N shrugged. “I want to go sleep,”

“Why can’t you sleep out here?”

“I don’t want to be woken up,”

“We wouldn’t wake you until the fighting was starting back up again-”

“Oh, my darling fearless leader,” their voice was empty, tinny and cold, “I don’t ever want to be woken up,”

Their words pierced Helmut straight through the heart he didn’t know he had. It made him feel so much, so many emotions he had simply not allowed himself out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation. “But we’ll need every able body ready to fight when they send in the super soldiers if we even want a chance at making it out of this,”

The smile that crossed Y/N’s lips didn’t come from a place of joy, nor did it mock Helmut for his blind and dying faith. It was simply there because they did not know how to do anything else. “There’s no making it out of this. Not for me, at least. For you, though… you still have a chance,”

Denial and anger went hand in hand as Helmut sucked his teeth, grinding his molars and letting his hand ghost over his pistol hanging at his hip.

“So you’d really rather die like a coward than take a stand against the evils in the world?” he spat, harsh and cold as the air around them. “Pathetic,”

“Don’t do this now, Helmut, not after we were finally getting somewhere. I don’t want to die with things like that,”

“I’m not the one who’s giving up,” he snapped.

He just needed… something. A reaction. A reason to keep fighting when the war was already lost. Anything. Why couldn’t Y/N light the same fire in him that they’d kindled for months? The fire that had driven him to spend sleepless nights poring over maps and plans and speeches and guns. If he just pushed a little harder, just hit the right button, they’d light it again, he just knew it.

“Please,” the word fell fragile from Y/N’s lips. Not a beg, just a soft plea.

It fell on deaf ears.

“You know what? You can take your chair!” Helmut was shouting then, loud enough that the remaining students on the barricade could hear every word. “Take your chair and leave us to fight while you die in your sleep. If we make it through the day I’ll put the bullet between your eyes myself. Now get out of here! I don’t want to see you again,” There was a cruelty to it, an edge that he thought might just push them off the edge. Still, it wasn’t cruel without reason. Helmut thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Y/N would simply leave.

They had no stakes in the results of the revolt, no serious lasting ties that would get them hunted down in the weeks to come if things came to a gruesome end. If he bid them to leave, to disappear from his sight, there was a chance, however small, that they would disappear into the shadows with a chance to live.

Against all odds, though, Y/N smiled one of those empty smiles again and drank down the very last of their wine.

“As your baronship commands,” they whispered, before departing to gather up a chair and disappearing into the restaurant where they had met so many times before.

Then, they were gone, and Helmut was free to sink to the ground as his heart broke and mended and broke again.

------------

As expected, the super soldiers arrived only a couple of hours past Y/N’s departure.

Their arrival was silent, only marked by the slow thud of retreating national guardsmen in the distance. They weren’t needed there anymore, and the less they saw the better.

Helmut watched his friends fall one by one in the panic, the barricade falling to ruin as the soldiers- if they could even be considered that, soldier seemed a far too human term for the monstrous creatures before him- pulled it apart with their bare hands. From there it was just a game of who was caught first in the insanity that ensued.

Nicholas; caught a bullet through the neck.

Vladimir; thrown against a solid stone wall at a speed near impossible.

Lazlo; impaled on a bit of broken wood as the wood exploded.

Andrei; shot 3 times point-blank in the chest as he held the door closed to buy Hans and Helmut a little more time with a love confession for his closest companion falling from his mouth.

Hans…

Helmut didn’t know how Hans died.

He had never asked. All he knew that the shots had come as he wailed Andrei’s name, and then there was a deathly silence in the golden light of the morning sun as Helmut stood alone at the back of the storeroom, taking in the 4 walls that had held the best year of his life.

What remained now?

A failed dream? A pile of bodies? A single survivor waiting for his death?

Helmut didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom it.

The two soldiers sent to finish the job were nameless and nondescript as they slipped through the door, armed with long, silent rifles and hidden by masks not too dissimilar from Helmut’s own. They did not speak, not a word. Instead, they simply raised their guns and took aim at Helmut as he closed his eyes and thought of-

“Wait!”

The word rang out heavy and made the two executioners snap to the side.

“I’m with him! I’m with the revolution! Down with King Emil! Down with the monarchy!”

There, hidden among the crates and shelves of canned goods and glass bottles, was Y/N.

They looked objectively awful, eyes rimmed red and hair mussed up and coated with oil. Still, it was the most beautiful sight Helmut had ever seen.

It was only right that they go together.

Slowly, Y/N made their way across the room to take their place at Helmut’s side. “I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I assume you’ll make an exception for the circumstances,”

“I never meant it,” he whispered back, and Y/N smiled, “You have to know, I never meant it,”

“Even if you did, I never would have listened-”

Suddenly, one of the soldiers spoke, taking aim straight for Helmut down the barrel of their gun.

“Quiet,”

Y/N only paused for a moment before pressing their hand into his. “Kiss me, Helmut?”

Who was he to deny them?

Pulling off his mask, he pressed his lips to theirs and clasped their hand like it was the last thing he would ever do. When he pulled away, they were smiling one of their old, mocking, joyous smiles.

“Oh, fearless leader… I win,”

The words were a whisper of air against his lips. Before he could fathom the true meaning of them the pair was peppered in a spray of gunfire as Helmut closed his eyes to the world for what should have been the final time.

When he opened them, Y/N was struck dead at his feet.

------------

It was their final winning move, he later realized, the checkmate to a game of chess he never believed would end.

In the end, Y/N had been as correct as they always were.

All the same, he hated them for it.

Some nights, in the darkness of his room back at the summer estate where his father has imprisoned him until further notice, he wondered if Y/N had kissed him because they wanted to or if they had done it to get him to remove his mask long enough that the soldiers would recognize him and spare him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Y/N did have a tendency to be right about things like that.

Ghosts haunted him often.

Not full specters, he would wish for something so merciful. Instead, he saw flashes in the periphery of his vision. Outside his window, he’d hear a child’s laugher and be so sure it was Sebastian until he looked out to find that it was simply a group of the staff’s children playing ball. Or, when the assigned guardsman brought him his dinner, he would glance down the hall and be so sure that a man at the other end was Lazlo, preparing to face a board of proctors as he delivered a thesis he would never write. It never was, though. It never would be.

Worst of all, when he laid awake in his bed as the clock struck twelve, he would feel them beside him.

They had never slept together in the literal sense. Whatever they had shared (love, Helmut would come to realize after many, many years with Heike, painfully hollow without the same kind of flame. He had loved them and simply never known how to show it) was purely physical and contained within that bloody, bloody storeroom that he was sure would be torn down someday soon as they glossed over the casualties and stamped out the evidence. Still, he could feel Y/N beside him in the darkness despite the fact that they had never been there.

Their head on his chest, their body pressed flush to his side, their hot breath fanning over the fabric of his nightshirt, creating a patch of damp warmth in its wake…

It was maddening, an eternal punishment he was doomed to endure for his stupidity. Nevertheless, if he let his brain wander to a better place, a different lifetime, it was almost comforting to feel their ghost wrapped tightly to his side.

When he woke, though, the loss of the dream was more maddening than living through it.

Almost a month after the failed revolution, in the hot and heady days of early July when the wasps buzzed loud at the window and the skies were filled with thunderclouds most of the time, his father finally came to speak to him.

“I trust you spent your birthday how you wished to,” Heinrich said plainly. There was no question to it, just an empty sentiment.

Mockery wasn’t nearly as pleasant when delivered by his father and not his lover, Helmut thought distantly.

“On the contrary, I spent my birthday watching everyone I cared about die,” he snapped back.

Heinrich didn’t offer any sort of commiseration. He simply shrugged and continued on with what he was there to say, not that his son minded much. The less time he spent there the more time Helmut would have to himself, which was preferable to listening to his father’s droning.

“You’re lucky to be alive. The family is on thin ice thanks to that stunt you pulled, but with time we’re all sure that you’ll become an asset if you simply learn to use that fire for something more… productive,”

Who the ‘we’ was went unspoken. It didn’t need to be.

Helmut sighed and looked out the window at the rain falling on the garden. Nicholas would have loved the gardens at this home. He would have pressed every flower at least once in the little book he kept beside him filled with the pieces of the world that he collected as he passed through it. Where would he be kept and collected now that he was dead?

“I’ve called in a favor and enrolled you for military service. You’ll be tested to find your strengths, sent where you’re best suited, and trained from the ground up. Once we know you can be trusted, you might even lead your own squadron and make some friends more of your caliber,”

It took all Helmut’s strength to clench his teeth and hold back the rage he felt in his chest. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you’re married,”

Married.

The word struck a bolt through the rage and dissolved it, giving way to pure shock. “What the hell do you mean?”

Crossing his arms, Heinrich took to pacing a 2-foot line back and forth in front of the door. “We’ve found a suitable match from a good standing Sokovian family, and they’re willing to look past your little misstep as long as their daughter becomes a baroness and is adequately involved in society. She’ll be here in three days time and you’ll have a week to get acquainted before the wedding,”

“I never said I was going to get married,” Helmut growled, “You can’t make me get married,”

His father stared down at him from above like he was a little boy again. “I can make you do whatever I want. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened with that freak they shot down at your side! No son of mine is ending up with someone like-”

In an instant, Helmut had rushed across the room and punched his father square in the jaw. As blood poured down the man’s face, a hiss escaped his son’s lips.

“Never talk about Y/N like that again,”

“So it had a name!”

That earned him another punch, but Heinrich escaped Helmut’s grip quickly, cupping a hand beneath his nose to catch the redness that poured from his face. As he retreated out the door, he turned to deliver his final verdict. “You have three days to get your act together, and maybe, just maybe, if you don’t fuck this up, I’ll let you know where they dumped all your little friends to rot,” And with that, he shut the door behind him and left Helmut to pick up the pieces of his soul.

------------

The tale Zemo wove was a sad one (sans most of the details about Y/N. That was a story whose finer details he would take to his grave) and as he came to a close, the purple fabric between his fingers was a tether to reality. The coating was a bit old, thinner in places than it should have been, but it had remained steady and strong for over 20 years and he didn’t know the first place to start repairing it.

Y/N would have known, they’d been the one to do it in the first place after all, but they were long gone, not even a ghost anymore. Just a name and a face forgotten to time as all the other impoverished students were, buried in an unmarked grave in a place he never learned. It was all that remained of them. The only thing that proved they were ever there at all.

“You know the rest of the story,” he added firmly. “I married Heike, climbed the ranks of the military, had my son… and they were simply lost, an unwritten page in the history of a country that no longer exists,”

Suddenly, though, a deep voice cut in through the heavy air between them.

“Ciczheni,”

“Pardon?” Zemo asked softly, pouring himself a final tumbler of whiskey and stuffing the mask back in his pocket.

“We buried them in Ciczheni,”

He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand.

Bucky was quick to continue, voice low and eyes clouded with memory in a way that only the two of them would ever truly understand. “It’s a tiny town along the border to the Czech Republic. There’s a big open field there, or at least there was, marked with a flat grave marking it as a burial site. I don’t remember the name on it, some random pseudonym, but they’re all there, all 57 dead and buried in the ground under that rock,”

Helmut gave a stiff nod. “I see,” Then, in one long gulp, he downed the whole two fingers of whiskey straight and relished in the way it burned down his throat. When the glass was empty and set down safely on the counter again he was quick to school his expression as he turned away. “I’m afraid all that excitement has exhausted me for the day. Goodnight, gentlemen,”

He was gone down the hallway into his bedroom before the pair had a chance to say another word.

Ciczheni.

As he undressed, he smiled softly, letting a few errant tears drip down his cheeks.

They had been born and raised in that tiny farming town. Sometimes, when he had let himself listen in on their conversations with some of the other members of their small, tight group, they would talk about how much they wanted to return someday, once they’d made enough money to live on for a while if they supported themself by growing a small garden and maybe keeping some chickens. The thought, even then, had always made him smile. Just Y/N and a cottage and a chicken or two.

Sometimes, if he was especially indulgent, he would imagine himself there with them. Sharing a home.

Making a family.

His biological family, the one he had created with marriage and his own flesh and blood, was something different entirely. He had loved them. God, how he’d loved them. Still, it was never the same. He was never at peace. He was never home. There would always be a bitterness there, as bitter as the dark summer wine he’d drunk the night he’d turned 20, a resentment that came with the obligation of creating a place in his heart for them when there never should have been.

For Y/N, though...

He sighed, wrapping himself in his robe and slipping on a pair of fleece pajama pants before crawling between the sheets and laying flat on his back, eyes to the ceiling.

Things wouldn’t have been happy all the time. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have been happy even most of the time. Still, they would have been where they belonged, seated firmly at his side for the rest of their long, wonderful lives.

Ciczheni, he repeated in his mind, then the memorial for Novi Grad. It was a minor detour, adding barely 2 hours more to the whole trip when he had plenty more to spare.

Ciczheni, then Novi Grad, and then, finally, peace.

Beside him, he could feel the phantom limbs wrap around his body, resting their weight firmly on his chest where the guilt and shame and terror built by the day, and for the first time in almost a decade they were not Heike’s. Perhaps, if all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be phantom much longer.

Or, if not, he would wait. He would wait a billion years to disintegrate into stardust and spread across the cosmos in search of them.

Either way, when they were together again, he’d know.

They both would.

--------

a/n: I’m not crying, you’re crying.

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace , @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade , @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @wondermia69 , @booklover2929 , @lol-im-done , @rorodendra , @spookycereal-s , @viviace , @wxrmh0le , @whatawildone , @mush-room-princess , @aliyahsfantasticlife , @gredvb , @chipster-21 , @whatawildone , @cloud-of-roses , @bry-97 , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx , @be-cautious-around-bri , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car , @frothonthedaydreams

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #barricade day #zemo fanfic

119 notes · View notes

stark-tony · 4 years ago

Text

today is my 22nd birthday so i’m celebrating by reccing 22 of my favorite fics and giving my general thoughts about them.

atla

i'm still here by owedbetter (77.7, T, zutara) "You see me."And somehow, that makes all the difference.

thoughts: One of the first zutara fics i ever read and it’s still one of my absolute favorites. The characterization of all of the characters is superb and the gradual development of zuko and katara’s relationship is amazing.

such selfish prayers by andromeda3116 (47.6k, T, zutara) Katara's ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead.

thoughts: while this fic is a zutara fic, the majority of this fic is centered on katara and her helping rebuild the world after the war and it does an astounding job of portraying just that. and honestly this probably has my favorite characterization of katara i’ve ever read in a fic.

Southern Lights by colourwhirled (501.8k, M, zutara) A world where the Avatar has disappeared from memory. Where Sozin’s Conquest was successful. Where the unsteady order of the empire is threatened as members of the royal family are picked off one by one and lines are slowly drawn in the sand.One last chance for peace forces an unlikely alliance between a homesick waterbender, a carefree Air Nomad, a runaway Earth Kingdom heiress, and the fire lord's inscrutable son. Together they must learn to shed old enmities and become the balance they seek to restore to the world.OR:The avatar has four heads.x[[Chapter 4: "And always, his eyes, cautiously watching her. Even when he thinks she isn’t looking. It drives her mad"]]

thoughts: when i say i was unable to put this fic down i genuinely mean that. like i’m pretty sure i was hooked from the very first chapter and i never looked back.

bnha

stickers and stars by aloneintherain (1.9k, G, gen) “Aizawa, are you sure I’m the best person for this job? There are a lot more qualified people on campus. People who have been teachers for years, and—”As All Might spoke, Midoriya Izuku crawled the length of the couch, ducked under All Might’s arm, and made himself comfortable on his lap. All Might’s hands rose into the air, as though unsure of what to with his arms now that he had a toddler curled against his stomach like a cat seeking the warmth of its owner.“Um,” All Might said.

thoughts: is it not enough to say ‘baby deku’ and leave it at that?

Butterfly by aconstantstateofbladerunner (198.8k, T, gen) The first over-night trip off campus since the training camp was supposed to be a fun break from more intense work back home. But between a bleak introduction to chaos theory, a chilly reception from the locals, and the looming threat of a villain attack, Izuku has too much on his mind to properly enjoy the fresh air. But those worries are a light breeze compared to the hurricane that accompanies what he finds on the outskirts of town.Or rather, what finds him.

thoughts: it’s incredibly well written and the horror aspect is so good. also the dad might in it is top tier.

villain eradication plan 5C: let them attack budding heroes mothers, wait appropriate time for mother to defeat them��(3.4k, G, toshinko) Targetting the civilian families of hero students should be cakewalk. Pity they decided to go with Inko first.Or the one where Inko accidentally defeats the League of Villains.

thoughts: this fic is basically inko accidentally being a badass and it’s as hilarious and awesome as it sounds

see it all in bloom by aloneintherain (57.2k, T, tododeku, kiribaku, momojirou, bullying) Midoriya looked over the occupants of the room with butter soft eyes. “We should do this again. Seeing everyone in one place … it’s like we’re back in school again.”Todoroki said, “It feels like a family reunion.”(Social media fic, counting down the five months to Class 1-A's ten year reunion.)

thoughts: this series deals with social media + the lives of class 1a after they become pro heroes and it is amazing.

remember from here on in by aloneintherain (8.1k, G, gen) Aizawa glances from All Might to Midoriya quickly. It sounds impossible—he’s never heard of a quirk that can be handed down like a family heirloom—but at the same time, it makes perfect sense. Midoriya’s inability to use his quirk at the start of the year. The strange, familial relationship between All Might and Midoriya. The slow malnourishment of All Might’s body, like his power was being siphoned away.“You’re …” Aizawa begins.“I’m All Might’s successor.” Midoriya’s proud but shaky voice rings clearly down the empty corridor.Aizawa finds out about One for All.

thoughts: this fic deals with one for all being revealed to aizawa + midoriya getting more quirks and it is amazing

could i but teach the hundredth part by terra_incognita (5.2k, G, gen) Ito Matsu knows three things about her neighbor, Mr. Yagi: he's very skinny, he's very kind, and he has enough children to overthrow the Japanese government.Or:All Might is retired, but his former students keep coming up with reasons to visit.

thoughts: this fic is so lovely and i adore it so much

mcu

the talk by parkrstark (3.1k, pepperony) “Wait, man, what’re you doin’?” Rhodey asked, leaning forward.“Giving the kid his talk before he goes off to college.” Duh.Rhodey blinked. “At 3am when you’re probably too drunk to even spell your name, months before he actually has to leave?”“Yeah.”Rhodey blinked again. “Okay.”

thoughts: this fic is absolutely hilarious and poor peter is suffering throughout all of it

call you home by Madelinedear (19k, G, pepperony) sometimes family is who you're born with.and sometimes family is a spider boy, a rich not-dad, and a kickass aunt.(or; tony, may, and peter find a place in each other's lives)

thoughts: to me, this fic is the tony may co-parenting fic. like i honestly don’t think that anything can ever top it

I Never Lived 'Til I Lived In Your Light by losingmymindtonight (38.4k, T, pepperony, character death) As the world shifts to make space for Morgan Stark, everyone around her shifts, too. (As it turns out, this also includes Peter Parker's sleep schedule.)

thoughts: this fic is both fluffy goodness and heartwrenching angst and it handles both beautifully.

Lazarus, come forth by iron_spider (47.9k, T, pepperony) Tony's mind is a chaotic mess but he remembers the moment—remembers his death, remembers the red hot pain and Peter screaming, Rhodey rushing to his side. How he knew he’d never see Pepper again—but they’d fixed it. They’d fixed the world, erased the lost time, set things right—and the kid was back. The kid was crying, the kid hated him for doing what he did, but he was back. He was alive.Tony Stark was dead. But now he’s breathing again, trying to think, gasping, hands tracing the box surrounding him, covering him, suffocating him.He’s in a coffin. He’s under the ground. He’s under the fucking ground.(Tony Stark dies defeating Thanos. But then he comes back to life. He has to find out how, why, and how to live again. And how to deal with the changes in the people he's coming back to.)

thoughts: although this fic was written and finished pre-endgame but to me this fic is the fix-it fic for film.

Identity Saga by KitCat992 (400.7k, T, pepperony) An organically developed, platonic slow-burn of Avengers-fam dynamic with a heavy hand of Irondad & Spiderson. Throw in an overdose of whump, a couple of cunning villains and a big-bad hiding in the shadows, and you got yourself this hot mess.

thoughts: i just love the avengers dynamic in this series and the whump is medically accurate which is amazing.

college applications: the biggest meme by sagemb (3.3k, T, pepperony) Tony covered his face with both hands and screamed very gently. “Can I just bribe the school to let Peter in?"

thoughts: this series is absolutely hilarious and i love it

The Changeling + Armistice Series by Annerb (586.6k, M, hinny, rape) Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

thoughts: this fic is absolutely golden and i adore it so so much. the characters are so well written and the worldbuilding in this fic is fantastic and it actually has an original aspect of hogwarts (aka the parlor) that i practially consider to be canon at this point. also the depiction of slytherin house + house unity in this fic is just *chef’s kiss*

boy with a scar by dirgewithoutmusic (208.7k, T, hinny, romione, jily) A series of "what if" rewrites of Harry Potter, books 1-7. Cross-posted from tumblr (ink-splotch).

thoughts: every single one of these fics are exquisitely written and i wish that i could experience the beauty of this series again for the very first time.

Hogwarts, to welcome you home by gedsparrowhawk (FaceChanger) (11.1k, G, ginny) “You understand, Professor,” Harry began, after a moment, “that I don’t have my N.E.W.T.s. I never even finished seventh year. Between everything, I never had a chance the first time around, and then afterwards there didn’t seem to be much point. Hermione argued for it, of course, but I was so tired of Britain. So technically, I am completely unqualified for the position.”“Quite a way to begin an interview, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, dryly.Or, three years after the war, Harry Potter becomes Hogwarts' newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

thoughts: this is my favorite harry as dada professor i’ve ever read. no doubt about it

And the Unethical Binding Contract by justafandomfollower (14.6k, G, gen) AU. What if the Triwizard Tournament took place in Harry's first year, not his fourth?

thoughts: this fic is beautifully written and i love the relationship that forms between harry, cedric, krum, and fleur.

Regulus Black and the Way Things Changed: A Not!Fic by imaginary_golux (8.8k, T, wolfstar) What if Regulus Black, and not Severus Snape, ended up being the turncoat Potions Master of Hogwarts?A not!fic written in bullet points, ignoring the Deathly Hallows entirely because they annoy me.Beta by my immensely patient Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw, and by the delightful starbirdrampant.

thoughts: this fic may be ooc at some points but it’s so funny that that makes up for it

spn

Broadway Musical by Griftings (12.5k, M, destiel) This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

thoughts: this fic is quite possibly the single most funniest thing i have ever read. like i was straight up cackling when i was reading some of the scenes.

Down to Agincourt by seperis (1 million+, E, destiel) There is no such thing as a guarantee when it comes to war.The outcome's known. Why try? Return your rusty sword to battered sheath, bow your head and bend your stubborn knee. Why take the field when you cannot win the war? But Harry -- he went down to Agincourt.

--Harry Takes the Field by bratfarrar (AO3 link here.)

thoughts: this fic is an absolute work of art. the characterization dean and cas and all of the ocs is astounding the world building is immaculate and the writing is so detailed and in depth. a fair warning though to the first time reader as this fic can get very confusing at times but trust me it is worth it.

#mcu recs #atla recs #hp recs #bnha recs #spn recs #my fic recs #bullying tw #rape tw

74 notes · View notes

waveypedia · 3 years ago

Text

New Days

Rymin Week Day 4: Off the Train

1 2 5 6 7

Ao3

Contrary to popular belief (his parents), Min-Gi is not a morning person.

He’d trained himself into getting up and going to bed early, first at his parents’ insistence, then as a necessary skill for all the classes he was taking in high school (Gotta make that college application shine!). Yet given the choice, he would happily stay up all night and wake up extremely late.

On the train, all of Min’s obligations and restrictions suddenly vanished. Although his schedule was primarily dictated by not dying, which led him to sleep and wake up at odd hours (and telling time on the train is a complicated task anyways), he started sleeping in later and later. Now that he’s off the train, and most of his days consist of driving, songwriting, and practicing, he’s free to wake up as late as he wishes.

It’s why he finds himself slowly slipping into the world of wakefulness one unassuming Thursday morning. The van is already moving, as per usual - Ryan doesn’t mind the quiet mornings as Min sleeps away. Golden rays of sunlight peak through the van’s windows.

In the driver’s seat, Ryan is spotlighted in one. The sun’s brilliant hues turn his brown hair into shades of tree bark and make his soft skin glow. He’s beautiful.

Ryan is a morning person, in contrast to Min, but he would very much like to be a night person. They’ve spent ages lamenting the fateful injustice. Unlike Min, who used to force himself to go to bed early even if it meant lying awake in the dark for hours, Ryan chooses to just run on little sleep. He’d go out and party and/or perform all night, crash for a few hours, and wake up at his usual time.

He’s been getting better, though. Just like Min, they’ve both been making bounds of progress now that they’re off the train and free from restrictions. Every time Ryan goes to bed at a decent hour, it eases the worry in Min’s heart.

They’re both doing so much better now. Min never thought he’d be grateful for getting spontaneously kidnapped by a magical death train, but he and Ryan are so much happier now than they’d ever thought they’d be.

Ryan glances over, smiling fondly. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

It’s a running joke between them, one that started way back on the train with Kez, but Min’s heart never fails to make a little jump whenever Ryan calls him beauty.

“Morning,” Min replies, stretching. He digs around in a bag at his feet. “Did you move the songbook?”

“Yeah, I was working on it earlier,” Ryan says. He jerks a thumb behind him without taking his eyes off the road. “I left some new lyrics and chords for you to look over.”

Min smiles. “Thanks.” Following Ryan’s directions, he grabs the songbook, a blue pencil, and his coveted mini-synth. Items in hand, he carefully slips into the passenger’s seat and buckles up.

Ryan shoots him a quick grin and turns his music off so Min can write.

For the next few hours, they stay as they are - Ryan keeps them on track to their next gig, while Min tackles the lines Ryan wrote earlier. It was a bit of a learning curve, figuring out how to write songs together, when they first started out. Ryan only knew chords and tablature, while Min only knew notated music from his viola days. Now, though, a couple months into their journey, they’ve worked out a good system. Whoever comes up with lyrics or a melody first (usually lyrics, and usually Ryan) will pen it along with any chords or notes they can think of. The other will look it over, edit it, and add the missing element. It usually makes for a solid first draft.

Min twirls the pencil in his hand. Blue. His favorite color. Ryan usually writes in a red pencil, from a set of colored pencils he stole from his younger brother before leaving. It makes contributions easy to distinguish when writing and editing.

Every so often, while Min looks over Ryan’s ideas, he’ll pull out his mini-synth and tap out a melody. Both of them find it easier to create melodies with an instrument in hand. Min may not play his mini-synth on stage like Ryan plays his guitar, but it still makes him happy to play it regularly. Not as a toy, not as something he has to hide from his boss and his parents, but as a genuine instrument.

As he writes and plays, Ryan listens. He keeps his attention on the road and map, but chimes in every so often with little affirmations and suggestions.

“Is that a D?” Ryan muses. “Under a G?”

Min thumbs the corner of the page. “Yeah, I think it sounds cool. Thoughts?”

Ryan graces him with a patented Ryan Akagi grin, all teeth. “I like it! I’ll look it over when you drive.” Ryan squeezes his fists on the steering wheel. “I’m really glad we’re working together, Min. This is way better than anything I’ve written solo.”

Min ducks his head, cheeks flushing. “Oh- Uh- I like writing with you too,” he replies. “

In the afternoon, they pull over and Min takes the wheel. Sometimes at this time they stop for food - they’ve made it their mission to catalogue all the small restaurants across Canada and America on the way to New York for future reference. But today Ryan got a late start on driving because he was songwriting (“Inspiration strikes when it strikes, Min! Who am I to deny my muses?” Never mind that Ryan is uncharacteristically close-lipped about what/who said muses even are), so they eat separately in the car. They step out to stretch for a minute, and Min hands over the songbook and food. Then they’re off again.

Ryan makes a few more edits with his red pencil, but they always collaborate on the second pass. At both of their insistence, they have to wait until one of them isn’t driving to truly discuss it. Min thought he might have to put his foot down on this, but Ryan was insistent - he’s an experienced driver and knows far to well just how dangerous and difficult driving is.

The afternoon passes without much fanfare. Min keeps his eyes on the road while Ryan edits and eventually breaks out his guitar. The highway is long, flat, and unassuming. Few other cars pass them.

It’s for that exact reason Ryan gets an idea that is both brilliant and stupid.

“Min. Min. Minminminminminmi-”

“What.” A feeling of dread washes over Min before the words are even out of Ryan’s mouth.

Ryan grins toothily at him. “I’m gonna stick my head out the window.”

Min chokes on air., surprised. “Wh- Ryan. Why would you want to do that? Didn’t you have enough thrills on the death train?”

“Eh,” Ryan says, shrugging. “I’ve always wanted to do it, but i couldn’t exactly do it while driving when I was touring alone. Besides, my parents would never let me.”

“For good reason,” Min grumbles, but in his gut he knows Ryan’s already won.

Ryan frowns at him. “Look, I’m not stupid. I’ll be careful. I won’t lean so far out of the car that I’ll fall. I’ll come back in if there are more cars or it looks like I might hit something.”

“Or if we start turning,” Min warns.

Ryan’s replying smile is blinding. “Does that mean it’s a yes from you?”

Min rolls his eyes. “Just try not to die. If I show up to the venue with only half the band, the manager won’t be happy with me.”

“Yes!” Ryan punches his fist in the air and dances triumphantly - or, he dances as much as one can while sitting in the seat of a moving van.

Ryan rolls down the window and sticks his head out. He’s crouching on the seat, half-standing, in order to fully fit through the window. His upper body is out of the car. His arms wave and flail, making his jacket sleeves flutter even more violently in the wind.

Min starts to shout a warning, to yell about safety precautions, to give into the panic in his heart and yell get down, but the words die in his throat the minute he lays eyes on Ryan’s face.

Ryan is joyful. Euphoric. Happy. He has always been a smiley person, but times where he is truly, unadulteredly happy are rarer than you’d think. Here, riding half-outside of the van while they drive to their fame and dreams, he seems truly free.

Min smiles. God, he loves that man.

Ryan glances back, the light reflecting off his glasses, and flashes Min an adrenaline-fueled grin and a shaky thumbs up. His ankles wobble a bit. Before Min realizes what he’s doing, he reaches out and grabs Ryan for support.

Ryan’s mouth drops open in a small ‘o’. Min moves to take his hand back, but before he can, Ryan twists and reaches back inside the car to grab Min’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

Min freezes.

Ryan is smiling, more bashful and careful now than before. He’s still happy, but… nervous? Anxious?

Min’s heart flutters. He manages to smile back.

“I got you,” he says, although it comes out as a whisper.

“O-oh,” Ryan whispers. His eyes are wide and soft. “I… thank you, Min.”

Min ducks his head awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. It’s not awkward, but it’s not as comfortable and natural as it usually would be.

Something has changed.

Min grips the wheel tighter and stares down the road, for a lack of real target. If looks could kill, the road would be up in flames.

It’s… confusing. He’s not sure why a change in their dynamic is so upsetting and off-putting. He and Ryan have gone through so many changes over the years, and they’ve always been able to come back to themselves in the end.

Besides, it’s not like they had an argument. Or even a misunderstanding. All they did was hold onto each other to keep balance. Why does this feel so monumental?

Min chances a glance away from the road to look at Ryan. He’s curled up in the passenger seat (because Ryan seems incapable of sitting normally when he’s not driving) with his guitar. The songbook, flipped open to their latest draft, is balanced precariously on Ryan’s knee. He’s bent over to read it accurately, which must be difficult, especially in the dim light. But he seems to be managing. He’s humming softly to himself, almost too quiet for Min to catch it. As he’s focused on the road (no matter how much he wants to listen to Ryan’s ethereal yet natural and homey singing) the melody floats in and out of focus. Ryan is also plucking at his guitar, playing mostly individual notes instead of chords. It’s calming and comforting, not to mention beautiful. If Min weren’t driving, he might just fall right asleep. Even though he’s the one playing, Ryan seems drowsy as well, judging by the way he’s leaning against the back of the seat.

As they draw closer to their destination, Ryan seems to consciously shake himself into wakefulness. He sits up and puts the songbook away to focus fully on his guitar. As Min pulls off the highway and navigates the city streets, Ryan tunes his guitar and warms up.

They run through a couple vocal exercises together, practicing harmonies and lyrics as well as warm-ups. Min is a bit shaky since he’s focused on the road, but he and Ryan know their songs by heart, and the warm-up does the job. He’s still a bit jittery as he pulls into the venue parking lot, but that’s normal. He hasn’t quite shaken his stage fright yet, but as long as he has Ryan at his side, he’s able to perform. More than that, he has fun performing.

Besides, Ryan confided in him a while back, before their first real show. “You’re not the only one with stage fright, Min,” he’d confessed. “Yeah, I love it, and the adrenaline basically cancels out the fear, but it’s still there. You just have to go for it.”

Min had felt comforted enough to perform with that, with the admission that even the seemingly-fearless Ryan Akagi, who’d always seemed more at home on a stage than at his actual home got stage fright. But then Ryan had hesitated, glanced down, and taken Min’s hand. Min’s heart had nearly stuttered to a stop in his chest. He almost missed what Ryan said next.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if you get stage fright or not,” Ryan had said cheerfully, too cheerfully, although Min barely noticed. “All that really matters is if you enjoy what you’re doing. It’s more admirable to conquer your fear in order to chase your dreams than to not have fear.”

Min had smiled back, shaky but euphoric. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, not unlike how he felt onstage. “That’s very profound.”

Ryan had laughed and squeezed his hand. “Eh, I have a lot of experience. Listen to me, I’m the master!”

The mood subtly shifted with the joke, and suddenly they were laughing and Ryan let go of his hand and they were pushing the synthesizer on stage and it was all a blur from there until the curtain went down and Ryan was squealing and hugging him and picking him up and screaming We did it! You did it!

What a first show.

Min shakes himself back to reality and pulls into the venue parking lot. Ryan jumps out of the van before Min is fully parked, despite Min’s loud protests. He rolls his eyes and lets Ryan run ahead anyway.

While Ryan gets checked in with the manager, Min parks and unloads Barold and the rest of their equipment (which is pretty much just Barold now, since Ryan took his guitar with him in his haste). He heads inside, he and Ryan set up, and then they’re standing onstage behind a lowered curtain, waiting in darkness and silence for their cue.

Suddenly, Ryan turns around and flashes Min a thumbs-up and a bright smile. It’s more jerky and jittery than usual, probably because of the nerves and adrenaline. He seems a little more on edge today, though.

“We’re gonna do great!” Ryan promises, grinning.

Min smiles back. “We’re gonna do rad,” he replies. The tension between them dissipates, and the curtain goes up. Ryan turns toward the crowd, beaming his particular I’m-on-stage-but-I’m-really-enjoying-myself smile, and greets them. The crowd goes wild.

Energy floods Min’s body, and he grins back at the crowd. Ryan counts them off, and they burst into their opening number with the power and passion it requires. The crowd screams, but Min can barely hear them over the music and Ryan’s voice.

He’s living. Far more than he ever was before.

They both are.

After the show is a blur of chatting with audience members, grabbing something to eat, and scheduling another show. By the time they head to the hotel, Min’s exhausted. But he dutifully puts all the equipment in their hotel room and locks up the van before he collapses into bed.

Ryan is already in their room when Min comes in. He’s sitting on the bed, facing away from the door, with his hands on his lap. Most striking is the absence of his guitar. Ryan may have been playing all day, but it’s rare for him to be without his instrument and yet so still like this.

Ryan, to his core, is always moving. Even when he’s not physically moving, he’s always singing, humming, thinking. Yet now, he sits in absolute stillness.

“Ryan?” Min whispers. His voice is quieter than he intended, but Ryan jumps at it all the same.

When he turns, he’s smiling disarmingly, but it’s too wide and shaky to be natural. Ryan may have convinced someone else with that expression, but Min knows him too well to be fooled.

Min strides into the room with three short steps, locking the door behind him. He stops in front of Ryan, so close their knees are almost brushing. Ryan blushes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I- Nothing.” Ryan won’t meet his gaze.

Min scowls. “Come on, Ryan. Aren’t we past this? Didn’t the train teach us not to do all this not-talking crap?”

Ryan flinches. “I- Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?” Min finally moves, stepping around Ryan to sit on the bed beside him. He takes care to keep his voice soft and gentle. He doesn’t want to scare Ryan again. Whatever’s going on seems to have him skittish all of a sudden.

Ryan bites his lip. “Min, I… you know I care about you, right?”

Min blinks, surprised. “Of course I do.” Hesitantly, he reaches out to take Ryan’s hand, running his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles. “I care about you too.”

Ryan blushes. His cheeks are nearly scarlet right now. Min’s a bit too tired to unpack that all on his own right now, but he knows it means something. It spurs him on, gives him a burst of courage and energy in the adrenaline crash phase after a show. “I’m glad we’re-” He’s about to say friends, but the word dies on his lips. Suddenly, it feels all wrong, but he can’t put his finger on why.

Slowly, Ryan turns to face him. His eyes are wide and anxious, his lips slightly parted, but there’s a set determination in him that shows in his face. He reaches out to take Min’s other hand, and… leans in closer.

Min finds himself leaning in simultaneously. Soon they’re close enough Min can feel Ryan’s breath on his lips. It’s hot in more ways than one.

Oh. Oh.

So that’s why today, Ryan’s hand on his wrist, the trusting and yet shocked expression of his, felt so weird and so right at the same time.

Their eyes meet. A silent exchange passes between them.

Do you want to do this?

Yes. Do you?

Yes.

If asked after, Min couldn’t say if he initiated it or if Ryan did.

All he knows is the gap between them is now nonexistent, and Ryan’s lips are on his, and suddenly it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The kiss is slow. Hesitant. Exploring new territory, figuring out boundaries. But it’s not awkward.

No, they are Ryan and Min, Min and Ryan, Chicken Choice Judy, and they have come much too far to be awkward. They’ve been building towards this moment since they first met, even if they didn’t know it.

It feels like a found puzzle piece of himself Min didn’t even realize he was missing. Now, he is complete. Now, they are complete.

Now, they are both truly living their lives to the fullest.

this fic is just: *headcanon* *headcanon* *headcanon* *hea-

oh man i almost didn't finish this one in time. it's still the 12th here, though (by a couple hours!), so i'm good! it's hard to write a full one-shot every day, but i've already come farther than i thought i would! i told myself i would finish this today, and i did! i also told myself i would finish the week and my remaining prompts, and i will. :)

title is from new days by dreamcatcher. that's the second time i've used it as a title but the last one was for a zine fic so i can get away with using it here, lol. i really love that song, so that's why. the lyrics translation are absolutely nothing like this, but for some reason it gives off road trip vibes (at least to me), so it works really well for this particular piece!

okay confession time: i think this is the first kiss scene i've ever written lol. i was writing it and i was like "hey wait a minute i have no clue what i'm doing have i done this before??? i don't think so???" it didn't help that i didn't intend to write a kiss scene, but i got to the place where i'd intended to end it and it felt like the natural progression. i'm gonna go research good kiss writing after this. i would've done it while i was writing, but i didn't want to post this any later than i had to

i have a bunch of infinity train snippets and wips i wrote right after book 4 aired and my interest in the show peaked, and i really thought i had something that would fit well for off the train but i guess i didn't?? maybe i just daydreamed it and never actually penned it skfhksl. so i was kind of flying by the seat of my pants for this one. i think it's my favorite of rymin week so far though! it was also the most fun to write. i really love introspective pieces. ryan and min off the train, after their relationship is repaired, when they're in a much better place and truly happy with each other, is also my favorite time in their lives to explore. they're so much happier and healthier, and they can truly start to explore themselves and realize their dreams.

if you have a piano or something on hand you should play the d and g notes together. they sound heavenly. in choir two years ago we had that chord and i have never forgotten it because i love it so much.

if you ever wanna talk infinity train, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on my tumblr or twitter! thank you for reading, and please leave a reblog/like/comment if you enjoyed it!

@ryminweek

31 notes · View notes

ackermanshoe · 4 years ago

Text

March comes in like a lion, it's Portrayal of toxic & healthy relationship and how to compares rivamika + Ereh

Que the longest title everr 😌✨

So before I start on the actual analysis, I recently started watching March comes in like a lion instead of doing my assignments and I half way through season 2. For those of you who haven't watched it, it might be a spoilers so beware of that.

In this analysis I'll be comparing the similarities I found between Rei, Hina and Kyoko.

So watching any anime after being do emotionally attached to rivamika it's only natural that I compare them to the characters with even the tiniest bit similarities in their dynamic but Rei and hina's relationship jump in episode 4 of season 2 really caught me off guard and I was like omg?? Rivamika?? How do I make this about them 😩

Anyway so a little background on Rei's relationship with both girls Kyoko and Hina ( Hinata ). Firstly, i subconsciously placed Rei has Mikasa, kyoko has Eren and Hina as Levi, why? You will know on a minute. Rei is a depressed kid who has known only one way of life and that's through shogi games and after his parents death ( cough cough ) he was taken in by a old friend ( I think ) of his dad's who was also obsessed with shogi. Kyoko is the biological daughter of this man who has "adopted" Rei and later on Rei was came to know Hina and her sisters, they were super supportive of him from the start and having lost family members themselves they related to him on a personal level.

So you see why Eren and mikasa's dynamic matches with Rei and Kyoko and not only as "step siblings" it's also the fact that Rei became somewhat obsessed with her through the time he had spent over at their house, it's toxic and it's been showcased that way ever since kyoko was introduced into the series. Rei thought of her when he heard the word "love" and he even admitted to the fact that having her around is toxic and yet he can't push her away. He said he does not want to stop hearing her voice even tho she , herself is in love with a much older man who is married. Everytime she showed up to his bedroom uninvited and slept next to him my mind went "he is in love with her and their relationship is so toxic why does the author keep bringing her into his life?" Or "girl get the fuck away from him".

Without even thinking too much deep into their physical connection I already knew I would be able to related this dynamic to Eren and Mikasa. Although this series gives us much more depth into the main characters views since it's narrated from his own perspective, and the fact that he metaphorically compared his feelings of being lost and sadness helps me as an audience to understand what's happening much much easier than attack on titan. I personally feel like this kind of series are usually short ( idk how long this is) because it feels like the author knows exactly what he is going for, everything is set in stone.

Going back to Rei's ( mikasa's) relationship with kyoko ( Eren ) it's much much clear how toxic it had become for him in more than just one way. And the show isn't denying Rei of his feelings towards Kyoko and it's not even attempting to distant him from her and yet you just knew there had to be someone better right? That's when they introduced Hina and Kyoko in the same episode, meeting each other and a sense of invisible rivalry gushed over them, especially Hina. She is a happy go lucky girl and extremely sensitive to things to the point it kinda annoys me everytime she bursts out crying ( but hey you can't hate a genuinely good character ).

That's where things get interesting for me maybe because I am on that Levi X Mikasa agenda all the time but just like rivamika their relationship has been portrayed as platonic for the longest time in the seaosns. If I didn't go out of way to search up who Rei falls in love with and it didn't say hina's name I probably wouldn't be making this comparison right now because who wants to have their heart broken for the 2nd time in the same fucking month 🙄.

Anyway so in this one episode Hina comes home crying because of bullying issue at school and as she runs off into the dark streets Rei chases her and eventually catching up to her takes her hand and being able to relate to her problems, comparing his younger self to her present Rei reaches out his hand and God fucking damn it he says "you saved my life..I promise I'll stay with you" ofc I'm making this post now you know the real reason 🤡.

The unseen build up that happen between them reminds me of rivamika, the Portrayal of healthy relationship is rivamika. Hina (in our case Levi ) to Rei is the voice of emotion, she speaks out the feelings that Rei has been surpassing all these years inside of him. Just like how we talked about Levi is the voice of reason, while Mikasa has the impulsive urge to act up. Just like how Levi became the perosn who reasonably always took mikasa's side, he gave her personal reasons to take Erens side everytime have an actual meaning towards the scouts / everyone , he then became someone Mikasa was able to object & voice out her opinion towards because she knew that he would response and guide her the right way and finally he became someone she was able to fully trust.

Much like Hina and Rei, when Hina cried out her heart and Rei couldn't help but go back to his past self and imagine Hina coming to him and giving him a hand, being his saviour. It's much like how Levi saw his past self in Mikasa present ( S1 ), Levi gave Mikasa the hand she needed when she didn't know she needed.

Hina despite being much younger than him, was able to make him realise that he too was shutting out his emotions and was able to let himself be free through Hina when she cried, expressing her frustrations and very human like emotions. In the forest of the giant trees when Mikasa and Levi saved Eren for the first time he told her " we got your precious friend, didn't we?" A slight wake up call he had given her for the very first time, an attack on Mikasa's ego and evoking a different emotions within her. Like telling her it's not only about Eren and getting revenge, risking your life so easily, Levi had lost his entire squad in order to protect Eren so now that he is safe they better leave now.

So the question is did Levi and Mikasa save each other?

What can I say that I haven't said already in here about these two?

"you saved my life" Rei says to Hina as he reached out her hand and the beauty of that scene was the fact that it was delicate and soft despite it not being anything romantic. Remind me of that panel of Mikasa touching Levi's shoulder. How ironic is the fact that I'm comparing Hina, a openly emotional character to Levi who is said to be the most emotional inside?

Levi physically saved Mikasa a lot of the time however emotionally Levi saved Mikasa from being selfish and from herself. What if I said and ignoring 139, that Levi was one of of the biggest reasons Mikasa took the initiative and decapitated Eren that day?

Wait why does it feel like I already said it before lol

Through Levi, Mikasa learnt to trust more, learnt that even though they gave difference not only in height, age and in how they treat Eren ( Levi with force and Mikasa with care ), Mikasa still came in terms with Levi and relied on him, shared her burden with him. I think that's the biggest character twist Mikasa had, the fact that she was ready to draw sword at anyone who treated Eren wrong and everyone was scared of her and then came the grumpy shorty who beat her beloved brother right in front of her but eventually he became the biggest form of support she had in the end. I just can not help but laugh at all the unseen development this ship has had and all the implication of Futher interaction after season 3 between them, it's really obvious they had something going on because imagine you don't talk to someone for like 3 years and suddenly when you engage in battle against , paired up with them suddenly you become the strongest duo known to humanity. +?)!#)# make it make sense.

Sooo now you see the that having toxic relationship with a partner is only natural and inevitable but growing from that, opening your eyes to those who actually care there for you is rather healthy. So moral of the story is guys make sure stick with those who tells you to stay with them, the end.

Omg guys this turned out so much longer than I intended, anyway hopefully y'all liked it. I know it's not the strongest comparison or analysis but I feel like I'm running out of words for what I want to say about rivamika it feels like I'm recycling my sentences from previous analysis over and over again because ✨ lack of content ✨ and my inability to think of something new.

Please ignore all my spelling mistakes I have decided to embrace my mistakes instead of fixing them simply because I'm too lazy 😉

💜💜💜

#rivamika #rivamikacanon #levimika #rivamika analysis #BurnTheScarfMikasa

40 notes · View notes

cybernaght · 4 years ago

Text

Guardian rewatch: episode 11

The episode starts with Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan at the totem/pillar containing Sang Zan, as the long flashback continues, this time depicting Sang Zan’s life after the loss of his lover. It’s actually quite affectingly dark, and Wang Chaowei’s performance is enjoyable.

Here, we are also graced by prop swords: those are made out of painted wood, which is very charming. Believe it or not, this is the only thing I want to say on those swords. Give it time.

Sang Zan’s revenge journey is complete when he is ambushed by his people at Ge Lan’s grave, and then uses the Mountain/River Awl to put his entire tribe on ice. Tragically, as he is stripping his own soul away from his body, he realises that the love of his life was there all along, silently watching his downfall.

Back in the now, Zhao Yunlan asks Hei Pao Shi’s opinion on the story they have heard. The later replies that it does not contradict the information he possesses. This is pretty much good enough for Zhao Yunlan, who in a matter of weeks went from feeling quite skeptical of the Envoy to trusting his every word.

The Chief moves to free Wang Zheng from her dark energy binds. His attempt is unsuccessful, and he gets repelled into Shen Wei’s arms, who catches him and then moves them both to safety.

Finally, Zhu Jiu shows up, and we have the first of four fight sequences that happen in this set.

Okay, so, initially I had written two pages of notes depicting every single thing I questioned in those action sequences, from conception, to camera work, to performance. You are not getting to see them, because they felt really mean-spirited. In general terms, it becomes very obvious very quickly that the production team had neither time, nor money to spend on those fights, so across the board they look rather sloppy: the choreography is repetitive, camera is not always adjusted well to capture the moves, and while Zhu Yilong and Wang Naichao’s stunt doubles are performing very admirably, the actors do make mistakes here and there. There’s even the same take being reused in two different sequences.

It’s this one.

Fight Number One.

Shen Wei sees Zhu Jiu and sprints into action, attacking him. It’s a dynamic little fight, and two men are shown as more equally matched than they have been before; if this is a choice it could have something to do with Hei Pao Shi’s self-admitted weakness when spending time above ground in his disguise. Neither of the men manage to land any hits on each other, but they both attempt a nice combination of punches and kicks. The editing becomes a little hectic, which is disorienting, but at the same time simulates escalating action and masks a few moves that are so muddy that they are difficult to discern.

Example: can you honestly tell me that you understand fully what is going on here? Who is attacking, who is blocking? What is the intended target of this attack?

After the brief scuffle, the two arrive at a stand-still when Shen Wei throws up a shield, and they pause for a quick conversation which establishes in a concise manner the reason for their conflict: Shen Wei calls Zhu Jiu a murderer, and gets called a traitor to his people in return. It’s interesting that as the accusation is thrown at Hei Pao Shi, we cut to Zhao Yunlan looking flabbergasted.

Then, Zhu Jiu breaks through the shield and initiates another fight.

Fight Number Two.

This one is very short, and shows Shen Wei clearly gaining the upper hand. He even lands a hit to Zhu Jiu’s ribs, but I think this is actually a mistake. As in, a performer mistake: there is no reaction, and the presence of a block suggests that the hit was meant to aim higher.

After a barrage of attacks, Zhu Jiu throws a wide sweeping punch at Shen Wei’s head, which the other man avoids in an extremely dramatic manner with a lot of pretty twirling, curtesy of Zhu Yilong’s stunt double. Finally, this time Shen Wei launches some dark energy at Zhu Jiu, which the other man blocks with considerable effort.

Shen Wei fires a bolt of energy at Zhu Jiu’s head, but hits the pillar instead, creating a bleeding fracture on it. He instantly realises he may have made a mistake, potentially doing exactly what Zhu Jiu wanted him to. This also creates an energy barrier around the pillar and Zhu Jiu, that Shen Wei cannot penetrate.

Fight Number Three

Sang Zan appears from the crack in the pillar and attacks Zhu Jiu. It’s clearly an impulsive move motivated by watching this man torture his lover for the past hour: Sang Zan is not as good of a fighter, not to mention that he is a semi-corporeal human spirit, so he gets overpowered easily. A lot of this fight is just a combination of straight punches thrown to and blocked on the opposite side of the body, but they do tell a story, which is quite nice. The story is as follows: Sang Zan surprised Zhu Jiu with the first one enough to throw in a kick in there. By the time the second of the punches arrives, the Undergrounder is prepared enough to put the attacking arm under control, and by the third one he is prepared to swivel Sang Zan around fully in a lock.

Out of the four fights this is actually my favourite one: yes it’s very uncomplicated, but it has clarity to it. On top of that, Wang Chaowei is actually pretty good here.

Having restrained Sang Zan, Zhu Jiu moves to syphon out the ghost’s life force, forcing him to disintegrate in front of the person who loves him. It’s utterly devastating on multiple levels.

Shen Wei twirls into action once more, closing the distance on Zhu Jiu.

Fight Number Four.

Continuity-wise this entire sequence is a little bit all over the place, partly because it reuses shots from Fight Number One. This time as the two men engage, Zhao Yunlan goes for his revolver, taking it out in wonderful slow motion. As he attempts to aim, the two separate. Composition-wise this is pleasing.

There are a couple more moves before Zhu Jiu freezes in a block, which is a big mistake: Zhao Yunlan finally shoots, sending the villain flying. He then proceeds to move to Shen Wei’s side. He does not have to, but I gladly believe that this is where he wants to be. Using the pause, Shen Wei extracts the Awl.

This prop is gorgeous.

Zhu Jiu flees, leaving the heroes to deal with the aftermath.

Wang Zheng is coming to terms with losing Sang Zan after only seeing him once in the past hundred of years. I cannot imagine how painful it is for her; but Shen Wei can. His quiet hidden agony is seeping through his disguise, as Wang Zheng asks whether he has ability to bring Sang Zan back. When she sinks to her knees begging him to do so, it’s pure agony. It must be really painful to be seen as someone who needs to be pleaded with before performing an act of kindness and decency.

Of course Shen Wei will help. How could he not. Even without being begged, even without Zhao Yunlan looking at him imploringly, I can’t picture Shen Wei not restoring Sang Zan.

Outside, Guo Changcheng and Chu Shuzhi are still fighting the Youchu. Props to those two for selling the hell out of this fight: they somehow manage to actually elevate the badly CGI’d monsters.

At the end of the fight, Xiao Guo shocks his older friend, enraging him greatly. To be fair, for a complete novice Guo Changcheng is not at all useless in a fight, and it’s not his fault that the weapon he’s armed with has a surprising and unpredictable range. It’s even sadder that Guo Changcheng will take Chu Shuzhi’s outburst as the indication that the other man really definitely hates him.

The party gets reunited inside the cave. As Zhao Yunlan recounts the events of the day, he makes a point of praising Hei Pao Shi in front of his crew, which is kind of sweet of him.

Shen Wei goes to explain Zhu Jiu’s plan, and shares his suspicion that the Undergrounder could not have worked alone. He mentions that there must be someone behind the Evil Plan, obviously already suspecting who that might be, but doesn’t share any details.

Zhao Yunlan nods thoughtfully and proceeds to offer Sang Zan a job, proving even further the point that he does not vet people at all. I know the boy is Wang Zheng’s sweetheart, but he does have a history of being extremely homicidal. For some reason, despite Zhao Yunlan doing that, those around him still think that he needs convincing before accepting Sang Zan into their found family. Guo Changcheng tearfully asks Zhao Yunlan to not separate the couple, and even Shen Wei chips in with a grave “they held to the person dearest to their heart, not abandoning each other in life or death.”

Completely brushing past Hei Pao Shi’s severity, Zhao Yunlan latches onto the idea of Hei Pao Shi having been in love, and asks with a cheeky grin whether there is someone the Envoy cares about deeply. The irony is delightful.

Shen Wei looks down, trying to merge into background: this is not a conversation he is ready to have in the forceable future. Chu Shuzhi in the meanwhile coughs pointedly at the disrespect shown to his Lord. This forces Zhao Yunlan to change the subject, covering the inappropriate question with laughter.

Chief Zhao proceeds to playfully scold Sang Zan for leaving Wang Zheng to grieve for him, and then invites him to live at SID and work in the archives: full board, no salary. Zhao Yunlan loves happy endings, and here he can arrange one. His glee is evident.

Shen Wei, too, can’t help but smile one of his secret little smiles before quietly teleporting away.

After nightfall, the party returns to the village, and Zhao Yunlan finds Zhu Hong asleep. He shakes her awake, instantly worried over how disoriented the snake Yashou seems to be.

As Zhao Yunlan is checking in on Zhu Hong, Shen Wei rushes in to greet him, uncharacteristically happy and carefree. He appears to be genuinely in a good mood, and has a reason to feel elated: the mission was a success, mystery uncovered, villain fended off, happy ending achieved, and all with his secret being intact.

Zhao Yunlan stares between him and Zhu Hong for a few seconds, uncertainty evident. Then, he lets go of the wariness, and melts into an honest, heart-warming, infatuated smile.

Bai Yu knows exactly what the show was always meant to be, and I am living for it.

In the evening, the banquet is held to celebrate the end of the trip.

Zhao Yunlan finds himself being plied with alcohol, feeling pressured to accept refills despite getting more and more uncomfortable, to the point where his face is creasing with obvious pain. Shen Wei, who opts to drink water due to his own non-existent alcohol tolerance, notices his friend’s discomfort.

He glares darkly after the first glass, his brow furrows into a micro-frown by the third one, and then he finally snaps and snatches the liquor away.

Zhao Yunlan actually attempts to stop Shen Wei from drinking. He is clever, and realises instantly that Shen Wei is doing this as a way of helping out. From his actions here and his reaction later, it’s evident that subject of alcohol has come up before, and he knows Shen Wei does not tolerate it, his worry obvious.

“Since when have you started drinking?..”

First time watching this scene I distinctly remember saying out loud, “Oh I do hope he passes out Lan Wangji style”.

Well.

The downside I guess is that we never get to see how drunk Shen Wei behaves.

Zhao Yunlan puts a protective hand on Shen Wei’s arm, and then excuses himself from the table to bring the unconscious man back into the house under Zhu Hong’s narrowing gaze.

Having put Shen Wei to bed and connected him to a drip, Zhao Yunlan replays one of their first conversations, remembering this intense feeling of kinship they shared from the moment they met. Zhao Yunlan’s hands are restless with worry.

Finally, he reaches to grab the jacket, which Shen Wei has been wearing all day, and stops abruptly, sensing a familiar putrid smell of Youchu blood. He freezes, processing this new information. Then, he just laughs, before tucking Shen Wei under the jacket.

Shen Wei wakes up to a bright morning light and a note Zhao Yunlan left for him underneath his glasses. The note is accentuated with a winky face, because of course it is.

Shen Wei thumbs through the jacket in his lap, then lifts it to his nose, notching the exact same thing Zhao Yunlan had the night before.

We then finally see the events of the previous day from Shen Wei’s perspective staring with Zhu Hong attempting to hypnotise him. Shen Wei breaks the attempt without any visible effort, ordering the Yashou to not use hypnosis willy nilly out of what appears to be genuine concern. It would make sense if it was concern using the same logic Shen Wei applies to the rest of the SID squad at this point: they are Zhao Yunlan’s people, Zhao Yunlan's cares about them, therefore Shen Wei protects them.

He then encounters a Youchu, conjuring a sword into his hand.

Before reading my thoughts below please scroll down to have a look at the disclaimer which I have placed in the notes at the end of the recap.

Now, onto the sword essay.

Shen Wei’s sword looks about 80cm or so long, and constructed in a very curious way: the sharp edge is divided into three distinct sections, curving significantly at the higher third of the blade. This is interesting to me because on pretty much all swords I have seen the sharp edge (also known as true edge) would be solid, and it’s actually the false/blunt edge that would have a section in which it is curved or sharply slanted towards the point and sharpened, making the sword fit for stabbing as well as slashing. This sword is also thinning at the lower part of the blade, the way meat cleavers sometimes are. I kind of like it because it indicates that this sword would be actually suited for directly blocking incoming blows, the way sabres generally are not. In terms of physics I can’t imagine this sword not being very uncomfortably balanced. The heaviest part of it appears to be in the middle of the blade, which would make it very fitted for brutal attacks, but equally a nightmare to manoeuvre. This is exacerbated by a pretty but clearly light and utterly impractical fishtail pommel.

The grip of the sword is ever so slightly curved, also made of metal and would be long enough to fit two hands on it if need be, only the aforementioned fishtail pommel makes that impossible. The blade is decorated by what looks to be a faux Damascus pattern.

I wish the lighting was less washed-out, because I find it hard to discern the materials used. For what it’s worth, the blade looks like steel even if the handle does not. It does not look blatantly plastic, at any rate. Glaring sideways at my friend Baxia from the Untamed.

All in all, it’s a pretty fantasy sword. I could not locate an exact historical counterpart for it at all, although trying to find anything non-generic in terms of Chinese sword history has been challenging. The shape and length of this sabre do not directly correspond to anything I saw, especially considering its very distinctly shaped edge. Which, for a fantasy sword, is not at all a bad thing.

And now we need to talk about reverse grips. Because they are much loved by fight choreographers and stunt coordinators around the globe and I have opinions on that.

When you rotate a sword - any sword - into a reverse grip, the following happens:

One, you are significantly shortening the reach of your blade.

Two, you are limiting the range of moves available to you.

Three, you are making protecting your head and upper body excruciatingly awkward. You are either risking overextending your joints beyond what is comfortable for most people, or blindsiding yourself altogether by crossing your own arm over your face. Or, you know, both.

With this sword in particular, the part of it which does the slicing is actually curved out pretty significantly. This means that in order to apply the actual cutting edge to the target while in reverse grip you need to angle the blade away from your body by flexing your wrist sideways at an angle that cannot possible be pleasant: this is not the way the wrist joint is designed to move.

Reverse grip can be useful with short blades (knives, daggers), especially if held in an off hand, and there are a limited number of effective reverse grip moves in German longsword canon. That said, the only translated manual on single handed Dao swords that I found was Jin Yiming’s 1932 Single Defence Saber and… nope, not a single reverse grip guard or move in sight.

Generally speaking, the only reason to ever rotate into a reverse grip before performing the opening move is that it’s kinda hot.

Which.

I reluctantly admit, it is.

Sorry, where was I?

Oh yeah.

This could have worked. If the actual slash Shen Wei does was shot over his shoulder, with the beast animated running at him, it may have worked, cheating the massive gap between the CGI Youchu and the Envoy. But for some reason the slicing action was shot in profile, with Youchu being animated separately, also in profile and nowhere near the blade. Because you can’t put it in the same shot and explain why Shen Wei is not hacked to pieces by its claws.

Don’t get me wrong, Zhu Yilong looks really damn good wielding the sword. It’s just that everything else surrounding this moment makes me weep.

I do understand that taking about real life physics and real life combat performance in relation to an inhuman character of de facto urban fantasy series fighting a poorly CGI’d creature might be a moot point. But opinions have been promised and so opinions are delivered. And if you think this is me being worked up about blade work you should see me watching the Witcher series.

Anyway.

After getting Youchu blood on him, Shen Wei keeps moving. Outside the cave, he sends a ward to protect Zhao Yunlan and then transforms into his Hei Pao Shi persona, magical girl style.

It’s appropriately glorious, complete with his robes billowing in the wind as the camera spins around him.

We are then shown the moment Zhao Yunlan would have smelled Youchu blood in the cave, commenting on how rank it is.

With jacket in his hands, Shen Wei ponders, “Am I unable to hide my identity any more?”

The Road Trip story draws to a close, as many of them do, on Guo Changcheng writing his diary.

The episode, on the other hand, launches headfirst into the next case. We get to meet Tan Xiao and little Zheng Yi, are introduced to their relationship, see that the sound waves can be lethal in a way which is plot-significant, and have a whole set of gruesome underworld-related deaths.

My favourite part however, is this shot putting a tank full of fish chunklets in focus as Zheng Yi plays violin in the background. It just tickles me a lot.

At the SID, Guo Changcheng is suffering from diarrhoea, and laments his woeful existence, commenting on Chu Shuzhi’s clear dislike of him, as he calls the other man a giant popsicle. Unbeknownst to him, the Undergrounder in question is quietly reading Xiao Guo’s diary in an adjacent cubicle.

“Who is this?”

“A giant popsicle”

The rest of the office speculates on the way Hanga tribe’s food and water has affected their digestive systems. Zhu Hong comments that losing two members of their team to stomach problems for one Hallow is not a bad deal. Lin Jing counters that they did, in fact, loose three members of their team, making a vague gesture towards Zhao Yunlan’s office. Da Qing volunteers to go and shake the man out of whatever daydream he’s been stuck in.

Zhao Yunlan is staring into mid-distance as he swirls the lollipop stick in his mouth, memories of Shen Wei replaying in his mind. He is not just thinking about Shen Wei being suspicious and surviving a whole bunch of encounters he logically should not have; he also recalls Shen Wei and Hei Pao Shi both being protective, both being compassionate, both being by his side.

“What kind of person do you think Hei Pao Shi really is?” He asks out loud when Da Qing appears. The cat Yashou replies that the Envoy is an important person who should be admired from afar, and scolds Zhao Yunlan for adopting a familiar nickname for him. Which is simultaneously a good point - and a reason Shen Wei must have been really lonely for a very long time. When he was young, all but Kunlun admired him from afar. Now that he is in the modern times, I imagine him being kind enough to be liked, but not really letting anyone in, until Zhao Yunlan once more barges his way into his life.

Yunlan asks whether it was possible that Hei Pao Shi lives as a human, but Da Qing argues that as an important Underground figure he surely lives there rather than on the surface.

“Why would he be up here? To see his lover?”

“He does not seem the kind who would have a lover”

Speaking of lovers...

“Have you contacted Professor Shen since he came back?”

We can discern that Zhao Yunlan has not, in fact, contacted Shen Wei, opting instead to brood alone, collecting his thought before he decides how to approach that particular subject.

An opportunity to contact the professor falls into his lap only a short while later, when they leave the office to investigate the murder scene, and Lin Jing finds that the last two calls from one of the victim’s phones was to a landline. Lin Jing asks, incredulously, who would be using a landline this day and age.

As it happens, Zhao Yunlan knows such a man. Zhao Yunlan orders his subordinate to dial the number, and Shen Wei replies. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and just... laughs.

On a separate note, can we please have a second here to admire Lin Jing’s Snoop Dog T-Shirt?

All the way across town, Zhu Hong and Xiao Guo are visiting the snake tribe to ask Zhu Hong’s Fourth Uncle about the Hallows. Guo Changcheng is very much freaked out by the Yashou surrounding him, but not as freaked out as he gets when the Fourth Uncle comments on him and Zhu Hong being a cute couple.

The episode fades to black on Zhu Hong being knocked out by a sedative by her own family.

Next up, Episode 12: Why You Always Lying

———

Notes.

1. The Disclaimer.

I would like to state that my base knowledge - both practical and theoretical - is overwhelmingly Eurocentric. I have done some research in the last couple of weeks, and I have actually gotten my hands on a polycarbonate version of a generic single handed dao/sabre so I could get a feel for it, but I have never trained or fought with it. I would maintain that performance safety techniques are pretty universal, as I would maintain that in terms of physics, a sword of a certain shape is designed to be used a certain way regardless of where it originates. That said, I certainly have less authority when critiquing sword work I am not culturally familiar with. Please, take my words on the subject with a massive grain of salt here as well as in the future.

2. Full disclosure on my angle in this. I am proficient in fight performance, have choreographed for the stage, but my main thing is combat education; I am working towards getting certified as a stage combat teacher, and regularly assist in classroom environment. My first instinct watching fight sequences therefore is to give cast a whole bunch of notes. I am doing to best to curb it here, focusing more of storytelling and composition and such.

3. Apologies for taking longer than usual to post. Lockdown is lifting where I am, and in person physical training is returning to higher education. You can imagine that after months of inactivity and isolation seeing students AND handling large chunks to steel for hours on end is rather physically and emotionally draining.

4. … Before pictures, this recap is ten pages long. How is this recap ten pages long??

#guardian #zhao yunlan #shen wei #recap #rewatch #overanalysing fight choreography #overanalysing swords

35 notes · View notes